


A Meeting At Midnight

by CAW



Series: Roses In The Winter [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Blood Imagery, Blood and Gore, Breaking and Entering, Changes in P.O.V, Concussions, Flashbacks, Gen, I put them ALL in this series, Injury, M/M, Mark literally has forty six different egos, Minor Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, This is to be expected, a bunch of dumb stuff too, bruh, but its the Jims, including piss jokes, since I like to torture myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-01-30 22:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 37,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21436057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CAW/pseuds/CAW
Summary: "'What did you just say?'"Instead of answering, Wilford simply winked and shrugged his shoulders, the apple in Dark's hand disappearing and reappearing into Wilford's as the doorbell rang loudly overhead… again. The reporter gave Dark, who had a mixture of rage and bewilderment painted across his features, a smirk as he bit into the apple, pieces of apple sticking to his pink mustache as he sing songed, 'That'll be the DOOR, Darkie-Doo!'"
Relationships: (IMPLIED), Bimgle, Damien | The Mayor/Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel, Dilliam, Googliplier/Bim Trimmer, Wilford Warfstache/Bim Trimmer
Series: Roses In The Winter [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1531637
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is Part 2 of the Markiplier Egos series "Roses In The Winter". I highly suggest you go and read Part 1 before continuing this story, but live your life, man! Do whatever you want and if you don't want to read the first part, I'm not gonna make you! Live your best life lol.
> 
> \---
> 
> As you may or may not know, Mark has about forty-six (That's right FORTY fucking SIX) different Egos that he has either acted as or created during his career on YouTube. And, because I am a glutton for punishment, I have decided to include ALL of these Egos in the remainder of this series (not all at once, but still). This first "chapter" (if you could call it that) is basically here as a guide for YOU, to inform you about all the Egos and link you to the videos I associate with said Ego (in the order in which the Egos appeared aka oldest to youngest). This may be tedious, but trust me. You're going to be wanting this in the future.

**Markiplier**** / Mark**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uvih-VLDGpk&list=PLWMdj0aIafleB-rMqql8Jo91RNV_y9etd&index=3&t=0s>

**Darkiplier / Mayor Damien / Celine the Seer**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8eg2DypRC8&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=60&t=6s>

**Wilford Warfstache / William J. Barnum**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CDyXod3wBME&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=49>

**King of The Squirrals / King**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjOLGq7LNCk&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=21>

**The Author / Alexander**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8sbsaX7MNE&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=26>

**The Opinion Minion / ****Opinion:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VK4YsRwt8Jg&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=24>

**Elder Jeremiah**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eESfZ7bnoRA&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=28>

**Dadiplier / Stephen Ellings**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yc5mJpZi87A&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=29>

**Justin Ellings**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yc5mJpZi87A&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=29>

**Brian**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ybt-6MNFj7Q&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=30>

**The Silver Shepherd / Silver**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwYFV_BdbGQ&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=31>

**Captain Falcon / Falcon: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bb_o8bnY9Vo&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=32>

**Purple Wiggle / Evan: ** [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NuwSRbS_Ajg&list=](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NuwSRbS_Ajg&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=33) [PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=33](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NuwSRbS_Ajg&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=33)

**Leader of The Big Maker Six / Miles**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBbF8RnkaU8&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=34>

**The Survivor / Wallace: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uB2ns7sT8ww&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=36>

**Bill**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4cIK6Kyn3NM&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=37>

**Googliplier / Google Blue, Google Red, Google Green, & Google Yellow (Oliver)**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U1ash8r_wUY&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=63>

**Bim Trimmer / Bimothy**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdseK2TYCck&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=39>

**Brad**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYIPjMNi9zc&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=40>

**Ed Edgar: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTXu-0Oybyc&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=42>

**Nurse! / Lucas**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1sCeovJrok&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=45&t=10s>

**The Host / Isaac**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5UZ-RduHFYs&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=44>

**Mark Wing / Wing: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LqrMCm2dpgk&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=45>

**Scent O'plier / Scent: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HI0SFWuviZg&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=46>

**Frank:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BnNCKLaOto&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=47>

**Kinkiplier:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSU_81yWMUo&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=49&t=3s>

**Dr. Iplier / Edward: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vq9cv3WRqbA&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=65>

**Crankiplier**: <https://www.pinterest.com/pin/326862885456714904/>

**The King of FNAF / Mike Schmit: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KK9bwTlAvgo&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=50>

**The Surgeon / Francis: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUarNGYoGmg&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=52>

**Knightiplier / Oakley**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zYWJC4yDSc&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=55>

**Chef Iplier:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jwu4uucjkLY&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=55>

**Bushiplier:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujfbl_vaxMc&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=56>

**Cooliplier / Niko:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tW0G9XWaj0&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=61&t=0s>

**Yanderiplier / Yan**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frpg8WewVCI&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=58>

**Mark Bop:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vq9cv3WRqbA&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=69>

**Septiplier**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7MKiaIVAbM&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=63>

**Bingiplier / Bing: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZRLV20ea6c&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=66>

**Instaiplier: ** <https://www.pinterest.com/pin/326862885457047925/>

**Paintiplier** **/ Pierre**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7c0Y8itwUys&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=76>

**Actor!Mark / Marc Iplier:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q14pVTr1SxQ&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=85>

**The Jims / CJ & RJ:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VLI_JU2G2-c&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=71>

**Potatoiplier**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9cfofrCp12M&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=85>

**Dr. Plier / Charles:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0I9vWjc9nao&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=81>

**Goopiplier: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7Xs0MSVAy4&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=89>

**Maskiplier / Cultiplier: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUp9pCtn2BY&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=93>

**Harold B. Darrensworth:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tDzHxSpFZ0&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=92>

**Santaplier / Santa: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EBbOKDGTUU&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=84>

**Eric Derekson: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EBbOKDGTUU&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=84>

**Reynolds Voorhees:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EBbOKDGTUU&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=84>

**Derek Derekson:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EBbOKDGTUU&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=84>

**Stan the Waterman:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHcbLgNQ4Co&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=94>

**Thotiplier**: <https://www.pinterest.com/pin/815362707510550573/>

**Ichiban**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysROgI5qDL8&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=97>

**Priestiplier / Matthew:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pytxVmipOrw&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=91>

**Psychiciplier / Marcus: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2FpjcDaroU&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=88>

**Plumberiplier**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_SwaowC8rE&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=104>

**Heistiplier: ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9TjfkXmwbTs&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=110>

**Dave: ** <https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-edge-of-sleep/id1479444959?mt=2&app=podcasts&ign-itsct=pod_qcode_edgeofsleep&ign-itscg=80085>

**Yancy / Yanc:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=trYqU6kShPA&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=93>

**Illinois Jones**** / Illy**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=trYqU6kShPA&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=93>

**Captain Magnum**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=trYqU6kShPA&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=93>

**Memento** **Mori / Mori**: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysROgI5qDL8&list=PLWMdj0aIaflfljLmsV4ZDO-w2Y9LvXVh0&index=97>


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the actual story starts. :)

"Jim… I think we're lost."

The first time RJ and CJ had journeyed to Markiplier manor, labored with a huge camera and an even bigger sense of curiosity, they had arrived right at sun down and had hid precariously on the roof for the night. How they had gotten up there in the first place was a mystery, even for them. A party had been raging down below and the two brothers didn't want to risk getting caught snooping around on private property. After all, Markiplier had been  _ notorious _ for calling the police on anyone he saw on the property that wasn't supposed to be there.

Turns out that going to Markiplier manor after receiving a tip that the actor had been smuggling copious amounts of liquor in his sock drawer was the best career move the Jim Brothers could have made  _ ever _ . Especially when they got to witness the murders that happened the following morning first hand.

Now, ninety three years later, CJ and RJ were once again wandering through the thick woods that surrounded the eastern side of the manor, an even BIGGER camera in CJ's hands as RJ scurried ahead with his microphone and tried to figure out where the Hell they were supposed to go. "We should have gone up the driveway instead of through the woods, Jim," CJ called anxiously, his eyes roaming around the dark shadows that crawled up the trees that surrounded the two brothers. He let out a squeak and jostled the camera when a squirrel shot in front of him and jumped up a tree.

"Yeah… I think we did a goof, Jim," RJ replied as he continued to survey the woods while taking very wide steps forward and making as much noise as humanly possible. Looking back at CJ, RJ held his microphone to his face and panicked, "Jim, what if there are demons in these woods?"

"Like at the manor, Jim?"

"YEP."

CJ shuddered as he and RJ started moving forward again, the two brothers takng a step towards each other for comfort as they walked through the dense trees at a cautious pace. A low boom of thunder echoed from the distance and caused shivers to run up and down CJ's spine. He sneezed quietly before saying somewhat confidently, "I don't want to think about that possibility, Jim."

"But WHAT IF, Jim! Can you imagine what would happen if we got an actual demon on camera?!"

CJ snorted as he tripped over a root and sent his camera hurtling through the air on a fatal course towards the muddy ground. The man yelped loudly, diving forward to save his precious footage and, grabbing onto RJ's arm as he jumped forward, yanking his brother with him as he anxiously watched the camera arch gracelessly through the air. The camera landed roughly into CJ's hands and he let out a cry of delight as he hugged his camera close. He had already lost one camera over the course of a month; he was NOT going to lose another one! Especially not Delia! Delia was the best!

Planting a kiss on 'Delia's' lens, CJ righted the camera and pointed it once again at his brother, who was squatting close to the ground and pointing at something with wide eyes. "Jim, Jim! Get a look at this!" He exclaimed, the excitement in his voice prompting RJ to run forward quickly and zoom in on what appeared to be a footprint in the mud to his delight. RJ looked at the camera briefly before saying fast, "Look! This is PROOF Jim! Proof of the demons that walk in these woods!"

"Really!?"

"Look at the proof for yourself!"

This time when the thunder boomed, it was directly overhead, both brothers freezing in place as the first drops of rain fell through the thick foliage and landed on their heads and shoulders. After a few moments, RJ slowly brought his microphone close to his face and stated ominously, "That was a sign, Jim. A sign that we are walking on sacred ground."

The camera shook once again as CJ looked upwards and into the trees above, watching as streaks of lightning danced across the black abyss above with an awed expression. "They must be pretty demons, Jim," he replied as he leveled the camera once again, walking quickly alongside his brother as they continued through the woods, "I don't remember the manor being this far away. Do you, Jim?"

"No. No I do not, Jim." RJ scratched at the side of his face with a concerned expression before asking, "You don't think Dark Jim will get angry if we are late, do you Jim?"

"Jim, he is a demon."

RJ narrowed his eyes before getting extremely close to the camera and stating loudly, "That was NOT what I asked, Jim! Stop changing the subject!" CJ felt a raindrop land directly in his eye, the man hissing in pain as he stopped walking and knuckled his eye feverishly to remove the intruding water. RJ stopped too, turning to help his brother but instead getting distracted by a pattern of moss that was growing profusely out of the side of an oak tree to his left. "Jim! This right here proves that we are on the right track!" He licked his finger and held it into the air as if he were tasting the wind speed.

CJ ooo-ed and zoomed the camera in as far as it would go at the moss adorning the tree, his hands shaking as the shifting weight of the camera made his muscles cramp. "Ooo! Jim, what does it mean!"

"It means that we are just outside the property line of the manor, Jim! I remember this moss spot since this is where you took a piss ninety years ago!"

CJ smirked and zoomed the camera back out so he could focus back onto the serious face of his brother. "That was a good piss. And the moss is still here!"

"You helped it grow, Jim! You're saving the planet, one piss at a time!" The rain was beginning to come down harder now, the tops of both brother's blue shirts completely soaked through and their normal bouncy hair plastered tight against their heads. 

A tiny bolt of electricity shot out from CJ's camera and into his hand, the man letting out a shout before yelling, "I think my camera's about to die, Jim! She can't take much more of this!"

  
Nodding his head quickly, RJ started jogging forward at a pace that was hard for CJ to match, the camera banging against his shoulder painfully, and practically screamed into his microphone over the howling of the wind around him, "Hang in there, Jim! We're almost to Markiplier Manor! Just  _ hang _ on!" CJ only grunted in affirmation as they finally broke through the forest line and sped towards the dark, looming manor before them, their feet splashing noisily through puddles and their breathing turning ragged from lack of oxygen.


	3. Chapter 3

Thuwak! Thuwak! Thuwak!

RJ gave CJ a nervous look over his shoulder, his hand still poised delicately over the wooden door that marked the entrance to the manor, before asking anxiously, "Do you even think Dark Jim is home, J-"

The door flew open with a slam, an agitated huff echoing from just within the shadows of the doorframe. Both brothers jumped nearly ten feet in the air as they screamed in unison and grabbed onto each other. 'Delia', for the second time that night, spun through the air and smacked against the cracked tile under the Jim's feet, CJ screaming once again before diving towards his camera with a choked sob. "NO! NOT DELIA!" CJ moaned as he tried to pick up the shattered remains of his one true love, RJ bending over beside him with a shocked expression on his face, "WHAT AM I GOING TO DOOOOO!?"

Over his distraught demeanor, though it was hard to focus, CJ could feel eyes staring into the back of his head, goosebumps prickling on his arms as he wiped the wetness from his eyes and looked into the inky blackness of the door in front of him. The faint outline of a man grew clearer, his blue and red auras glowing faintly behind him, as he ventured closer to the flashing lightning and panicking twins in front of him. RJ, genuine pain sparkling from his chocolate eyes, glanced away from his crying brother and did a double take, jumping to his feet with the frenzy of a chipmunk as he watched Dark approach the entrance. The entity leaned against the door frame with a grunt, his eyes a mysterious dark color that CJ was  _ totally _ unaccustomed to. He was used to seeing Dark with red or blue eyes; To see the demon with only soulless black pits shining from his face was truly an unusual and frightening sight.

Dark sighed, his auras flickering with recognition, before he popped his collar with shaking fingers and stated firmly, " **You two are late** ."

"Jim and I got lost in your woods, Dark Jim," RJ, his microphone pointed at his face, replied immediately, his brother beginning to cradle the broken pieces of 'Delia' to his chest while rocking slowly back and forth on the ground. Feeling a sharp kick to his side, CJ just nodded dumbly and pointed a finger towards the way they had come, the woods igniting in white light as lightning zig zagged across the sky once again.

" **Why didn't you take the van up here? It isn't that far of a drive.** "

"Exercise is good for the soul, Dark Jim." 

CJ slowly began to collect himself again, using one hand to hold his camera and his other to help himself get to his knees. One piece of the camera slide out of his calloused hand and fell to the ground, the Jim brother whimpering as he tried to balance himself, hold onto 'Delia's' remains and grab the escaped piece at his feet to no avail. Suddenly, he felt the pieces of his camera leave his hands, a black veil of magic sliding across his camera and enveloping it in the same inky darkness that Dark was composed of. CJ looked at the man in front of him, who had been watching the man on the floor flounder around with a fond smile on his lips.

"Dark Jim. What are you doing to 'Delia'?" CJ asked quietly, jumping gracefully to his feet as he watched his camera swirl in a spiral around and around his body. The black pieces of plastic modeled themselves back together seamlessly in mid air, no remnants of the break to be seen as the two Jims watched Dark perform his magic with wonder. No matter how many times they saw it, magic always seemed to render them speechless. Finally, as if synchronized with a large thunder clap, CJ's precious camera landed softly into his palms, the Jim gasping as new tears of happiness threatened to spill down his cheeks. RJ just laughed in disbelief, throwing an arm over CJ's shoulder as he inspected Dark's work closely with a smirk. "Th-thank you, Dark Jim," CJ muttered, hugging the camera tight to his chest as he turned and gave Dark the biggest smile he could muster.

The demon scoffed at CJ's antics, waving a hand as if to say it was no big deal before finally rumbling with crack of his neck, " **I didn't want to listen to you cry the whole time you were here. I'd want to stab myself after twenty minutes.** " A small smile crossed his lips as his aura flashed blue, RJ removing his arm from his brother's shoulders after a quick squeeze to immediately rush at Dark (faster then he reallly should be able to) and crush him in a huge hug. He had almost knocked the demon off of his feet when they had collided and, when CJ stopped fiddling with the buttons of his camera and decided to look upwards with a giggle, Dark was no longer smiling. " **Alright, enough** ," he gritted out before roughly shoving RJ away, the latter grinning widely as he tripped over his own feet and landed on his ass onto the tiled walkway.

"Jim! I think these tiles need to be fixed! I seem to be having trouble walking without falling!" RJ's eyes widened. "Maybe these are cursed TOO!"

" **Are you sure it is not just your own clumsiness that is causing you to fall, RJ?** "

CJ laughed and switched on his camera, the red light of the RECORD button glowing reassuringly from under his fingertips. His brother quickly jumped up from the ground, opening his mouth as if to say a retort of some sort before being cut off by an EXTREMELY loud crash of thunder. Dark glanced upwards, his eyes filtering through his sweeping black hair, before saying sternly, " **Don't just stand out there like a bunch of idiots. Come inside. I'll get us something to drink.** "

To say that the manor had fallen into disrepair would be an understatement. The once beautifully lit front hall, with a spiraling staircase leading up to the second floor to the right, was as dark and decrepit as a cave that had never seen the light of day across it's cavern walls. The gold and silver wallpaper was peeling magnificently on all sides and several lanterns had shattered against the creaking wooden floorboards, the white shards littering the floor like freshly fallen snow. As the brothers continued further into the manor, more and more broken artifacts were found in front of their path, their brown boots crunching over the remains of expensive china plates, detailed porcelain vases, and ancient looking pieces of jewelry. Across from the staircase, the frame of a large golden mirror gleamed eerily from the darkness, the glass contained within its boundaries splintered in a sinister fashion. CJ shuddered and tightened his grip on 'Delia'.

" **I truly am sorry about the mess** ," Dark rambled as he led the twins through his maze of a home, barely even glancing at the carnage around him before drifting to the next room. RJ was easily keeping pace with the demon, one hand in his pocket as he looked around the manor with an excited look on his face. His twin, however, had to walk as fast as humanly possible with a large camera on his shoulder to keep up with his excitable brother and messy houseguest. He wheezed audibly as he followed Dark and RJ down a dark hallway a little past the staircase to the left, the wooden floorboards giving way to grey tile as the hallway shifted into a kitchen. " **I… really hadn't been planning on having company today… It was quite literally a last minute decision on my part.** "

RJ spun on his heel quickly, turning away from the demon in front of him so he could approach the camera and whisper shout with his microphone, "And the plot thickens, Jim! What's next, will someone jump out and do a BOO at us?" Grinning widely at his twin's comments, CJ jerked the camera forward sharply, almost hitting RJ in the face but missing as his brother jumped backwards just in time. He cackled, zooming in on his twin's distraught expression before immediately having to zoom back out as RJ jumped forward and screamed, "BOOO! BOO, BOO, BOO!!"

"Shush, Jim! A demon might hear you!"

"I think a demon already has, Jim!"

RJ jerked a thumb over his shoulder, CJ looking to see Dark staring at both of them with a look of disappointment across his face and his arms crossed fiercely across his chest. RJ turned and gave Dark a thumbs up and a grin, the demon in turn shaking his head and muttering something to himself as he turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen, the wooden door swinging methodically behind him. CJ giggled under his breath and repositioned his camera on his shoulder, RJ glancing at his twin with a raised brow before shrugging his shoulders and bouncing through the exit to pursue Dark. CJ followed quickly with a huff, pausing to turn on the night vision on 'Delia' so he would be able to see the  _ completely _ pitch black room he had just walked into.

"Jim?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"Isn't this the murder room?"

RJ's green luminescent eyes blinked rapidly for a few moments, as if he were trying to remember something, before his expression melted from passive to panicked in a matter of seconds. "...oh no," RJ whispered, both he and CJ taking a creeping step backwards towards the kitchen door, "Oh no… Jim?" he turned to look at CJ with a serious expression, "I think we did a goof, Jim."

Light.

CJ screamed and almost dropped 'Delia' for the third fucking time that day. He had grown so accustomed to the darkness of the forest and interior of Markiplier Manor that he had forgotten what actual LIGHT looked like. For a moment, he was blind, feeling something bump into his hip and immediately tripping over his feet as he tried to scurry away. Luckily, he caught himself and his camera before they hit the ground, his inquisitive eyes slowly but surely adjusting to the lamp light that had just been turned on by Darkiplier in the far corner of the room. The entity watched with a frown on his face as CJ finally stood up straight, his twin to his left heaving in huge gulps of air as he gained his sight back too, and cried with a sniff, "Dark Jim! Don't SCARE us like that!"

CJ placed his free hand on his hip and tried to look intimidating, but his pouting lower lip made that impossible. Dark observed the two brothers, CJ's skin crawling once again at the penetrating gaze, before exhaling softly and replying, " **I apologize. Scaring you was not my intention.** " Blowing out the match he had used to light the candle, Dark walked forward with the tiniest of limps, coming to a stop in front of both brothers as glasses swirled into existence in both of his grey hands. RJ gasped and motioned for CJ to zoom in on the black wine glasses with his right hand, his brother quickly complying to the request with a gasp of his own. " **What will it be, gentlemen?** " Dark asked, his eyes shifting between the two brothers before resting on RJ with a shimmer of his aura. He smirked. " **I suppose one good thing about this era is that Prohibition no longer exists-** "

"Ooo! I'll have a Diet Pepsi!" RJ interrupted with a shout, his eyes flashing happily as looked at CJ's camera and asked, "What do you want, Jim?"

Audibly swallowing down the phlegm that was building in his throat, CJ made a humming noise before stating excitedly, "I want a Diet Pepsi too!"

"We'll be twinning, Jim!"

"I KNOW! That's why I asked for Pepsi, Jim!"

"Jim… You are a genius!"

Both brothers laughed, CJ's eyes drifting back to the demon as a dark liquid filled up the cups in both of his hands. The drinks fizzled as Dark handed one to each twin, a small smirk pulling on his lips as another glass full of a golden liquid appeared in his left hand. Pushing his hair to the side with a flick of his right hand, Dark chuckled lowly and mumbled, " **I always forget how childish you two are. It's refreshing as well as entertaining.** " He extended his right arm towards a small couch before saying with a teasing hint in his voice, " **You are more then welcome to sit. Stay a while. I promise I won't kill either of you… yet.** " He took a sip of his drink with a raised brow before walking to the far end of the couch, sitting painfully slowly before finally sinking into the cushions with a hiss of pain.

The twins practically bounced after Dark, RJ taking a seat next to the demon as CJ knelt in front of the other two with a grin on his face. He made sure to keep both RJ and Dark in frame as his brother leaned forward and asked eagerly, "So, Dark Jim… How has being dead been?"

CJ snickered as RJ's microphone was shoved into Dark's face, the demon eyeing the instrument with an annoyed look before swatting at it with his free hand and growling, " **Such a sensitive topic for one to ask inside the premise of MY home.** " He took a sip of his drink as his red aura flashed behind him, his dark eyes flashing as he leveled down RJ with a death like stare. When RJ visibly shrank back, CJ's own fear beginning to wiggle it's way back into his heart, Dark sighed and his aura returned to it's normal grey, foggy color. " **No need to be frightened** ," he said hastily, stealing a glance at the camera before turning back to RJ, " **I just thought we could talk about something less… morbid, considering how we haven't seen each other for over ninety years** ."

CJ pulled a face as he thought back to the last time he had seen Darkiplier, other then the time when he had seen him briefly when he had been on his way to his meeting with Wilford, and found that he kept pulling a blank. He couldn't remember any memories he had shared with the demon other then the ones he was currently making. Come to think of it, the last time he and RJ had been to Markiplier Manor he hadn't see Dark at all; A few people had been there the night of the murder all right, but there had definitely been no demons (that he had caught on camera). Well, unless you called the grumpy as all Hell Detective a demon which wouldn't have surprised CJ in the slightest. That sonofabitch was a MEANY!

Snapping from his thoughts as a roll of thunder echoed over the manor, causing the lamp light to flicker in and out of darkness before fading back into light, CJ gave his twin a look which RJ quickly returned before he turned to Dark once more and responded, "But this is our first meeting, Dark Jim! What do you mean by 'friends'? Don't get me wrong, I would LOVE to be your friend, right Jim?" CJ bobbed his head and shook 'Delia's head' yes too, "But, I don't ever remember meeting you ever before other then when you brushed past me and spilled coffee onto this shirt. Look," he pointed to a tiny brown stain close to bottom of his shirt, "That was from you! I hope you're happy that you ruined my favorite shirt!"

For a few moments, Dark was silent, his chest rising and falling slowly in the dim light as his two auras swirled around him as if they were dancing. The demon looked lost, as if he were solving the world's hardest math equation in his head. He was white knuckling his wine glass, looking seconds away from snapping the fragile stem in between his fingers. Finally, whatever emotions that had been crossing Dark's face disappeared in a flash, his body leaning backwards into a more comfortable position with one leg under him before he replied coldly, " **You're right. WE didn't meet, but you did meet a few of my** ," he paused and swirled his glass as if he were trying to think of the right word to use, " ** _acquaintances_ ** ** a very, very long time ago. You probably don't even remember them** ." He said those words nonchalantly, but the look on his face was anything but relaxed.

CJ leaned back on his heels as he zoomed in on his brother's rapidly nodding face, his floppy hair becoming even crazier then normal as it hung in front of his face like that girl from 'The Ring' (CJ had gotten nightmares for WEEKS after watching THAT). He didn't even bother pushing his hair out of his face before he replied with a snap of his fingers, "That must be it, Dark Jim! I remember this place because me and CJ used to hide on the roof!"

"Remember when you almost fell  _ off  _ the roof when you were interviewing that pigeon, Jim?!"

RJ gasped as Dark chuckled under his breath. "I DO, Jim! I saw my life flash before my eyes as I hurled over the edge! Thank God for that balcony!"

"The pigeon didn't even give you a decent story, Jim," CJ finished with an eye roll, shaking his head in exasperation before zooming in on RJ's red, cackling face with a smirk, "Smile for the camera!" Instead of doing what CJ had suggested, RJ stuck out his tongue and promptly tackled CJ to the floor, the brothers beginning to play fight and roll across the carpeted floor with giggles escaping their throats. Gasping as he pushed RJ away, CJ bent over his quickly discarded camera and inspected it for scratches and marks of any kind. He ran his thumb over the lens to check for cracks and sighed with relief when he found none. RJ, a cheeky smile still on his face, tried to reach for his twin with wiggling fingers before being swiftly kicked in the side with a yell from CJ. "Oh no you don't, Jim!" CJ exclaimed as he hoisted the camera back to his shoulder and zoomed in on RJ's wincing face with a grin.

He quickly turned to Dark, who had been watching the two men fight with an amused smirk tugging on his lips, and zoomed in on his face, the demon's eyes snapping to him as he took another sip of his drink and said lowly, " **You two are hilarious to watch, do you know that?** " CJ's jaw dropped as he heard the most whimsical sounding laugh leave Dark's throat, the demon resting an elbow against the armrest and placing his head on his hand with a contented look. CJ exchanged a look with his brother, who was grinning as he leaned back on his hands, concluding in his mind that he liked Dark. No one had ever called the twins hilarious before and compliment made CJ beam in delight as his heart jumped about excitedly in his chest. Dark drained the reminder of his drink before breathing out deeply and cracking his neck with a wince. His expression became serious as he said quietly, " **...thank you for joining me here on such short notice. I… suppose I just get the littlest bit…lonely… here by myself sometimes, with nothing but memories to keep me company.** "

CJ's heart sank at the finality in Dark's words and the disappointed look on his face. He could hear his brother shift closer to him from behind and place a heavy hand on his shoulder in reassurance, almost as if to promise he would always have CJ's back. Biting the inside of his cheek, CJ met Dark's gaze and replied softly, "No, no. Thank YOU for inviting us! Your home is absolutely gorgeous even if it is as old as time itself," he grinned and watched as Dark returned a smaller smile, "AND we got to meet such an aweso-"

His words were cut off by the sound of something smashing in the kitchen, the loud crash making CJ yelp out loud and fall backwards in fright. RJ let out a squeak as he jumped to his feet, his hands immediately helping his twin stand as he asked anxiously, "Jim! Jim! What was that, Jim!?"

"WAS IT A DEMON, JIM?"

" **No.** " Turning to watch as Dark rose to his feet, his face a stone mask while his eyes flashed with rage. Straightening his suit with a few harsh tugs, Dark stalked towards the kitchen with fists clenched, his entire body coiled as if anticipating something to jump out at any moment. " **The only 'demon' in this household is me. I'm the only thing that you should be scared of and believe me** ," he grabbed onto the doorknob as lightning flashed outside the glass patio doors to his left, '' **Whoever or whatever is in the kitchen should be very, ** ** _very_ ** ** afraid.** "

With one fluid motion, Dark ripped open the door, his auras flaring up behind him as CJ and RJ held onto each other with looks of terror etched into their faces. And, not two seconds later, a black and white cat tore out of the kitchen and through Dark's legs with a loud meow, both Jims screeching as they jumped backwards and up onto the couch to avoid the animal. CJ, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, was tempted in a brief moment of madness to throw his camera at the running cat, but decided against it when he heard Dark shout from across the room. The brother turned, 'Delia' still situated on his shoulder, and watched with wide eyes was someone ran straight through the kitchen doors and smack into Dark in a blur of reds, yellows, and pinks. The demon grunted in pain as he stumbled backwards and almost fell, the man in his arms grabbing on as tight as he could before digging his heels in and helping Dark stand straight once again.

"Oops! SORRY there, good man! I DARESAY I didn't see you in my haste to retrieve my pesky feline!"

CJ's eyes widened as he recognized the voice of the newcomer, his brother dropping down from the couch to his right before whispering confidently into the camera, "I don't think that's a demon, Jim."

  
And, as if to drive the point home, Dark, his red aura blazing violently behind him as black swirls of magic blockaded the newcomer into the living room with them, said with venom positively dripping from his voice, " **Well, well, well. Isn't this a lovely surprise, ** ** _Wilford_ ** **.** "


	4. Chapter 4

The room was silent, three people staring anxiously at one another as a final person seethed quietly from his seat on the couch, his hands folded tightly in his lap and his eyes burning with fire. The cat, whose name was Milk and Cookies, was licking her paws on Wilford's lap, the reporter petting her milky coat as he gazed blankly at the wall in front of him. He had chosen to sit on the floor with his back against the couch cushions, RJ contently sitting in an armchair on the opposite side of the pink haired man. CJ sat precariously on the armrest with his camera in his lap, the recording button still glowing dully in the darkened room as thunder continued to boom overhead. It was, to be quite frank, extremely awkward.

"Sooo…" RJ began with a clap of his hands, twirling his microphone in between two fingers as he looked eagerly between Wilford and Dark with mischief gleaming in his eyes. CJ smirked and pointed the camera towards his twin. "How are things? Stuff AND things to be more specific." RJ pointed his microphone into Wilford's face, who didn't seem to notice the intrusion at all, and held it there for a good thirty seconds with an inquisitive look on his face. "...do you not know how to talk? Did you forget, 'cause you seem to forget a lo-"

" **Why are you here?** "

It was as if a light switch had been clicked on inside of Wilford's brain, his whole face lighting up as he ceased petting Milk and Cookies and fixed Dark with a crooked grin. The demon did not return the smile, his face as hard as stone and his form rigid in his seat as he shifted his gaze from Wilford to the twins. His expression was akin to someone who had just been betrayed by someone very dear to them. CJ kept the camera focused on the reporter. "Quite honestly, I have no bloody idea how I got here," Wilford slurred, resting one of his forearms on the back of the couch as he turned to face Dark. His brown eyes gleamed with magic and mischief even through the darkness, but his tone sounded sincere.

Dark scoffed at Wilford's words, the ringing that usually appeared when the demon was aggravated piercing through the air shrilly, and snapped back coldly, " **Enough with the lies, Wilford. How in the ** ** _Hell_ ** ** did you get back here? Surely someone let you in.** " His eyes flashed as he snarled his final words, both Jims, especially RJ, shrinking back as the wrath of the angry demon was cast upon them. " **I suggest you tell me which one of my ** ** _guests_ ** ** did so before I do something drastic.** "

"Oh PISH POSH, Dark," Wilford injected, waving his hand absentmindedly in the direction of the twins with a roll of his eyes. Milk and Cookies opened one of her eyes as her master shifted around and continued grandly, "It wasn't EITHER of their faults! I just…  _ happened _ to appear in your kitchen! That is all there is to it!"

" **But WHY?** " CJ could tell that Dark was running out of patience, the temperature of the room dropping several degrees as the entity rose slowly from his seat and began to pace back and forth with his arms behind his back. Wilford watched with a quirked brow and a curious expression, his eyes flickering to the Jims momentarily before returning to Dark. " **Why, of all the places you could have 'appeared' in, did you choose MY manor?** " The demon stopped pacing and, turning to face the sprawling reporter as a range of emotions danced across his face, all but shouted, " **You aren't ** ** _welcome_ ** ** here. You ** ** _know_ ** ** this and yet…** "

The beginnings of his rant pittered off, the ringing in the room growing quieter as his scarlet eyes softened back to the deep pits they had been when the Jims had first arrived. His gaze was directed at Wilford, whose eyes were glazed over and mouth parted slightly as he stared off into the space directly over Dark's right shoulder. RJ cleared his throat and hopped onto the floor, scooching forward and tapping the reporter's nose with the microphone with a hmm. Wilford didn't so much as blink and, for a brief moment, CJ thought that the man was dead. "Jim," RJ said, his head turning towards 'Delia' and his hair falling into his face as a result, "I think that pink Jim may have entered into a comatose. I don't know CPR, so things are looking pretty grim."

"I don't know CPR either, Jim. Does Dark Jim know CPR?"

"I forgot how lovely this manor is, Darky."

All four heads, even Milk and Cookies, looked at Wilford, the reporter's head shaking slightly as he sighed and craned his neck to look all around the room. His words sounded almost… normal, none of his eccentric cadence present at all, and at the corners of his eyes were the pricklings of tears. Raising the camera the tiniest bit higher, CJ double checked that Wilford was in frame, figuring that whatever the reporter had to say was probably important.

"It always seemed small when we were younger, the hallways like open mouths that swallowed light and every room hidden in shrouds of darkness from the blackout curtains-"

" **Wilford.** " Dark was clasping his hands in front of himself, his blue and red auras floating lazily behind him as he stared unhappily at the rambling man in front of him.

Wilford stood up from his seat on the floor, his cat jumping onto his head with a meow as he walked causally to the side of the couch and traced his fingers against a tin mug that looked like it hadn't been used in more then a century. He turned and gave Dark a smirk, CJ watching with an open mouth as he slid out of his chair to the floor next to his brother who had a finger to his lips as if to prevent himself from interrupting what was happening in front of him. The reporter's smile grew manic as the silence stretched through the room, his eyes hopping from one item in the room to the next with a desperate expression. Finally, his actions stilled and, with a chuckle, Wilford Warfstache seemed to return to reality. "Was THIS the marvelous mansion you were talking about during the meeting?!" Wilford questioned, his hand reaching up to stroke Milk and Cookies scruff as his other hand snapped at a suspender.

The concern melted out of Dark's form and was replaced with annoyance and anger one again, the strudient noise coming from his being rising in volume and octave as he cracked his neck and hissed, " **Perhaps. Why does it matter to you? I have not called a meeting yet, so whether this is the intended meeting destination or not should not be a concern of yours.** "

Wilford laughed, a full belly laugh that seemed to fill the room with a bit of warmth, as he cheekily responded, "Oh  _ NO REASON _ . I just thought since I had  _ dropped _ in," he and RJ giggled, CJ slapping his brother's arm sharply to get him to be quiet, "I thought I should might as well ASK is all, old chap!" He chuckled again, looking at the ground as his laughter racked through his entire body.

Thunder boomed overhead, very close and very loud, and Wilford flinched, his hands coming to a rest on his hips as if he were going to unholster a gun at any moment. CJ leaned backwards slightly, preparing to dive out of the way of a stray bullet if he needed to. The reporter's smile faltered as he looked back over the disgruntled demon's shoulder, his eyes growing blank once again before he shook his head sharply and positively chortled with insanity. "I feel like I've been here  _ before _ , Dark! It all seems so, SO familiar!" Snorting slightly, Wilford plucked his cat off of his head and held her tightly in his arms, the demon's face carefully blank as he moved his arms from the front of his body to the back. Scratching underneath Milk and Cookies' neck, the reporter looked away from his feline long enough to give Dark and the Jims a satisfied look and to exclaim with a note of finality in his words, "This ALL but confirms it! I MUST be losing my MARBLES!"

And, much to the two Jims surprise and delight, Wilford disappeared  _ right into thin air, _ RJ letting out a shocked noise as CJ let out a long whistle. RJ, his hair flying wildly all over the place, twisted on his knees and exclaimed directly into the camera lens, "Jim, Jim! Pink Jim just disappeared! Where did he go!?"

"I have no idea, Jim!"

RJ nodded his head enthusiastically, helping his brother stand before running right to where Wilford had been standing not two seconds prior. He let out a squeal of excitement. "HE REALLY IS GONE! Pink Jim is a wizard, Jim!"

CJ grinned as he stepped over to his brother, zooming in on all the little pink and white shimmery particles that were floating through the air and slowly dropping to the wooden floor. "Now only one question remains, Jim… what house was Pink Jim in when he went to Hogwarts?"

"Slytherin, obviously!"

"No, no, no, Jim! He was in Gryffindor, I can taste it!"

"Slytherin!"

"Gryffindor!"

Pushing his twin playfully, RJ stuck out his tongue at CJ, who immediately returned the gesture, and turned towards Dark with a determined glint in his eye. "Dark Jim! What house in Harry Potter do you thi-" he paused and lowered his microphone from his lips as a look of confusion crossed his face.

CJ frowned and, placing his free hand on his hip, asked his twin with a whine, "JIM! Why did you stop talking, Jim! The Jim News doesn't like it when you do that, you  _ know _ that!"

Instead of responding, RJ simply pointed, CJ following his twin's finger to where Dark was carefully taking what seemed to be a picture off of the wall that had been behind him. The ringing in the room was practically unbearable, CJ quite tempted to put down his camera and cover his ears to alleviate some of the noise, as the demon opened up the back of the frame with nimble fingers and slid the black and white picture out. He threw the frame to the side, the glass shattering as it slammed into a wall and it's shards fell to the floor with little pinging noises, and stalked over to the lantern, the darkness of the room partially hiding the mixture of sad and angry emotions rushing across his face one right after the other. 

  
And then, CJ's mouth falling open as he triple checked to make sure that his camera was in frame, Dark crumpled up the picture and let the flames of his lantern lick and blacken the paper until nothing was left but ashes in his palm, his face crumbling into a mess of rage and pain once again. Lightning flashed, followed by a boom of thunder, signifying to CJ that the storm was  _ far  _ from over. He drew in a breath. This was going to be a long night.


	5. Chapter 5

The morning sunlight burning into his eyes was surprisingly pleasant for CJ was he slowly roused from his slumber, his neck cramped and his back achy as he blinked his eyes furiously. The dream he had been having about a giant cat that wanted to play with the world's largest ball of twine faded in his subconscious the more awake he became, his brain demanding more oxygen and forcing him to yawn. Groaning in discomfort, CJ slowly sat up from his sleeping spot on the couch, raising a hand to block a little bit of the sun streaming through the glass doors in front of him. His twin, who was still asleep if his heavy breathing indicated anything, had flung himself backwards over the arm of the couch and was snoring loudly with the occasional mumble thrown in, CJ smiling as he rose quietly from the couch so he wouldn't disturb his brother.

It wasn't until the Jim had placed a foot onto the wooden floor and that it creaked in a way that wasn't normal for his and his brother's dwellings that he remembered just where he was and what had happened the night before. He winced and glanced fearfully around the room, his mind racing as thoughts of demons crawling out of walls and casting black magic on him plagued his mind one right after the other. But, after a minute of being frozen in panic, Jim exhaled loudly and pushed his flowy hair out of his face, telling himself over and over that Dark wouldn't  _ hurt  _ them… At least if they didn't deserve it. They were safe here, but… something about the house still made CJ uneasy. It was probably just because he was literally just sleeping in a room where a MURDER had taken place, but who knew?

The sun continued to glow steadily through the patio doors as a black object caught CJ's attention out of the corner of his eye, the twin turning and smiling when he saw what it was. In two wide strides, CJ was by his camera's side, carefully picking up the delicate equipment and cooing softly to it's lens, "There, there 'Delia'. I've got you now! No need to be lonely anymore! Did you sleep well because I slept terribly! That fucking cat and his stupid ball of-" He cut himself off mid-sentence, his nose pointing into the air as he smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen doors.

His eyes lit up as his brain registered the smell of sausages and hash browns, the Jim placing 'Delia' back onto the ground with a thunk as he trotted quickly to the kitchen doors to hear what was going on beyond the paint chipped doors. Even though a solid four inches of wood stood in between him and the wonderful smells beyond the door, CJ could definitely here the sounds clinking pots and pans as he leaned in close, trying his best not to rip any of the peeling paint off the door as he placed one hand onto the wooden surface in front of him. 

Human (Well, probably not really) activity could also be heard beyond the door, CJ noting the sound of footsteps and also what appeared to be… humming? "Oh shiiiit," the Jim whispered as a huge grin overtook his face, his feet flying back to his camera so he could record the unbelievable sounds coming from within. As he grasped the black piece of equipment, CJ wasted no time flipping open the viewfinder and pressing record, his grin growing even larger as he crept closer to the door once again. The camera didn't make too much noise as CJ hoisted it back onto his shoulder, but it was loud enough to make him cringe and back away from the door. He did  _ not  _ want to get busted by a DEMON for filming what the Jim assumed to be something pretty private. I mean,  _ nobody  _ wanted to be filmed humming a Frank Sinatra song without them even knowing about it! 

CJ's heart sank as he glanced between his camera and the door. He shouldn't risk it. After seeing the way that Dark gets when he's angry, CJ didn't want to risk doing anything that might upset the demon even further after what had happened last night. Clicking off the record button with a sigh, the Jim decided that he would keep the footage that he had gotten for… persuasion purposes, if he ever needed them in the future. He lowered 'Delia' from off his shoulder, hissing in pain as he rubbed at the sore spot that appeared whenever he filmed, and decided to just listen to the sounds of activity beyond the door. He placed his camera on the ground beside him and crept a tiny bit closer to the kitchen, his ear practically leaning against the door as he listened to the rustling of a box and the clinking of silverware on a plate. And then there were footsteps again, growing louder as they came closer to…

CJ may have or may not have gasped in horror as he tried to back away from the door before it swung open and hit him in the face, but he wasn't quick enough. The white wood made solid contact with his forehead and, stumbling over his precious camera in his haste to get away, the Jim yelped in fear as he landed back first onto the ground with a slam that shook the entire room. For a few moments, nothing happened, breathing in and out consistently being the only thing CJ thought about as he blinked rapidly at the ceiling. Well, that and not being dead. The Jim could also hear the sounds of a plate being placed somewhere, a headache slowly beginning to form at the front of his head as he tried to stay awake. 

" **CJ, are you alright?** " Dark asked, his voice sounding like it was in a tunnel that echoed and distorted in CJ's ears. The demon bent down beside the Jim as the shining patio doors ignited the blue aura glowing steadily behind him, his eyes radiating concern as CJ tried to focus on not groaning in pain as he attempted to move. His back didn't feel too good, but it didn't seem like anything was broken. His head, however, felt like it had been hit by an eighteen wheeler, dragged through a field full of rusty tools, and then hit by a tow truck carrying another eighteen wheeler.

Nodding his head slightly, CJ stretched out an arm and grasped Dark's shoulder, using the demon's body as leverage to pull himself up into a seated position. He blew a stream of air out of his mouth to push his wild hair out of his face and, turning to give Dark a blank look, said, "Dark Jim, I think I might have a concussion." 

The demon, who was carefully holding onto one of CJ's forearms to keep him upright, gave the Jim a startled look, his blue eyes flashing as he quickly started hoisting the twin to his feet. " **Are you sure?** " He asked uneasily, CJ's eyes glancing from the demon to the food sitting on the steaming plate only a few feet away from him as a growl escaped his stomach. The Jim heard the snap of fingers in front of his face and he startled, falling back onto the ground with a whimper and almost dragging down Dark with him. " **Jesus Christ** ," CJ heard the demon mumble above him with a sigh, his thoughts quickly captured by the sound of feet walking away from him as his stomach growled again. 

The food that Dark had made smelled  _ soo _ good and it was only a few feet away from him on a small desk near the entrance to the kitchen. " _ Dark Jim! _ " CJ whined, his hands flailing wildly at the retreating demon as if he could create his own magic and make Dark turn towards him once again.

The twin watched as Dark paused in the doorway leading into the kitchen, his blue aura curling around him and stretching towards CJ as if to wrap around him too. " **Yes?** " The demon asked tightly, spinning on his heel and crossing his arms as a scowl rested onto his face. The blue aura recoiled and was sucked back into the demon's body as he spoke, a sharp ringing noise and a grey cloud replacing the shining blue that had surrounded him before. His brow raised as CJ pouted and pointed at the food, his head beginning to pound dully at the thought of eating anything. In fact, the mere thought of food made the Jim want to throw up, but his stomach was beginning to cramp and if he didn't eat soon he was sure he would STARVE. Looking back at Dark with the most pathetic expression he could muster, the demon rolled his coal black eyes and asked sourly, " **You were just knocked in the head with a door and you're hungry? Unbelievable.** "

Though his words were sharp, the demon walked over to the desk and carefully picked up the food, handing it to CJ, who was still sitting quietly on the floor, with a look that could almost be kind. A flash of red and blue could been seen almost like a halo above his head. "Thank you, Dark Jim," CJ mumbled as he placed his food onto his lap, picking up his fork and eating one full mini sausage in one bite, "Mmm! Dark Jim, these are really good!" He winced, remembering that maybe shouting while having a concussion was not a good idea.

Giving CJ an exasperated look, the demon stood shakily to his feet and asked with an annoyed sigh, " **You do know you're going to have to go to the hospital, yes?** "

CJ froze, his fork halfway to his mouth as his eyes widened in fear. "W-what?"

A shimmer of red blazed from behind the grey surrounding Dark as he narrowed his eyes and snapped with crossed arms, " **I hardly know anything about concussions and wouldn't be able to treat you properly. A doctor with a medical degree and years of training will be able to help you much more then I ever could.** "

CJ yelped in fear and scootched backwards, letting his plate of food slide out of his lap and onto the floor with a crash as he exclaimed, "I don't really want to go to the hospital, Dark Jim! The last time I went there, RJ had a broken leg and it was just horrible." His thoughts continued to race as he tried to think of  _ any  _ excuse as to why he shouldn't go to the hospital before they all screeched to a halt as he said with excitement, "You can just call Doctor Jim, Dark Jim! RJ and I know him from when we were filming  **Markiplier TV** ! He'll help for sure!"

CJ watched as Dark silently mulled his proposal over, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he seemed to be having an internal debate with himself. Finally, Dark gave CJ a withered look and replied with a note of finality in his voice, " **I don't know Dr. Iplier's phone number, so that won't do us any good. Stop wasting time and ** ** _let's go_ ** **.** "

Dark reached a hand out and grabbed the collar of CJ's shirt, the Jim standing slowly to his feet as fear and defeat seeped silently into his bones. He had an arm slung around Dark's shoulders and was walking slowly towards the kitchen door as a slightly stupid idea popped into his head. It  _ probably _ wasn't a good idea to talk about things that involve  _ certain  _ people from last night, but if it got him out of going to the  _ hospital _ … 

"Pink Jim knows Doctor Jim's number! I can call him and get Doctor Jim over to the manor quicker then we can get to the hospital! I'll be well in no time AND it won't cost anything!"

  
Dark breathed deeply, his ringing changing in pitch, as he led CJ through the kitchen doors and sat him in a small wooden chair in front of a large ornament window. For a moment, Dark didn't say anything, turning his back to The Jim as he ran a hand through his hair and muttered under his breath. Just as a small sweep of panic began to rush over CJ as the fact that he WAS going to the hospital began to cement itself in his mind, Dark turned back around and growled with a frown, " **...fine. But ** ** _I _ ** **will be making the call while ** ** _you_ ** ** rest.** "


	6. Chapter 6

"Jim, you're being unfair!"

RJ made a face as he popped another hashbrown into his mouth, CJ watching with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed as his head continued to throb. "Wha- No I'm not, Jim! You're the sick one! You can't eat anything because you cracked your head!" RJ exclaimed before pointing at the demon standing moodily in the darkened hallway that led to the main foyer. "That's what Dark Jim said, Jim! No eating with a cracked head!"

" **I do not believe I ever said that-** "

"That's what he said, Jim!"

CJ made a bored noise and tilted his head backwards, immediately regretting that choice as the dull throbbing radiating in his skull turned into what can only be described as a jack hammer nailing into the large bone. Groaning in pain, the twin sat up straight once again and, letting out a tiny whimper of pain, placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes, trying to will away the pain as he awaited his treatment. Everything he thought of sent sparks of pain into his brain and he was fucking miserable because of it. A hand was running slowly up and down his back, CJ hearing his brother say softly, "Don't worry, Jim. Doctor Jim will be here soon to help with your head."

Dark snorted from the doorway and muttered angrily, " **IF he even shows up. Which, of course, won't happen if Wilford doesn't get his ass over here soon and call the bastard or give me the number so I can call him myself.** " The ringing from the agitated demon drilled itself into CJ's head, small tears beginning to form in his eyes as he looked up and gave his brother a pathetic look.

RJ, who had just finished another hash brown and was cleaning his greasy fingers on his blue button down, gave CJ one look and exclaimed, "Dark Jim, I think Jim is dying! Where is Doctor Jim!?" He immediately dropped his microphone with a clack and wrapped an arm around CJ's neck, grabbing the final hash brown off of it's china plate and shoving it into his brother's face. CJ opened his mouth, his stomach growling anew, and felt the warm crispness of the hash brown meet his tongue with delight. He chewed the morsel quickly and tried not to think about the ringing in his head as RJ reached down to pick his microphone again and say, "You have to eat if you want to stay alive, Jim. That, and drink plenty of water."

"Or Diet Pepsi," CJ interjected weakly, his eyes roaming from his brother's thoughtful expression to Dark, who seemed to be quietly listening for something as he observed the twins with a raised brow. "Nobody drinks water anymore, Jim."

RJ nodded enthusiastically, taking a seat on the arm of the wooden chair as he brought the microphone to his face and replied, "Ah yes. How could I have forgotten, Jim? Water is practically an endangered species!" 

Silence descended over the three entities after that, RJ keeping his arm firmly around CJ's shoulders to help ground him as CJ's simply tried to keep his eyes from fluttering shut ever time he blinked. The ringing in the room had lessened significantly, Dark's red and blue auras glowing faintly from the hallway as a soft expression took over his face and his arms fell to his sides. It was… nice, the peace and calm that had appeared so easily as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The Jims were constantly bombarding each other and other people with excitement, loud noises, and fast movements, so to just feel the exact opposite of all those things for a change was like inhaling the smell of smoke after spending a week in a room full of skunks. Weird, but better then it was before. 

CJ closed his eyes again, imagining his nice comfy bed and successfully beginning to block out the pain echoing inside his skull, and practically fell asleep, his breathing slowing for what felt like the first time in ages as RJ patted his shoulder for support…

_ RIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNG! _

Hissing in pain as the doorbell shocked him awake, CJ cracked an eye towards Dark, whose red aura grew behind him in vivid clarity as his eyes narrowed and ruby eyes flashed. " **Wait here,** " Dark hissed as he began to stalk down the hallway towards the front door, his hands clasped behind his back and his hair falling into his eyes.

After a beat of silence, RJ blinked slowly and leaned in close to CJ to ask in a stage whisper, "Do you think that Pink Jim is here, Jim?"

The pained brother rolled his eyes at RJ and replied with a wave of his hand, "Of course it's Pink Jim, Jim. Who else could it be, the fucking Easter Bunny?"

RJ removed his hand from CJ's shoulder, his hand reaching for invisible hash browns and sausages with a frown, and replied as he pointed his microphone towards his brother, "Stranger things have happened, Jim! Like that time in San Francisco with the meat cart lady and the guy in the baby doll mask! Do you remember that, Jim?" 

As CJ opened his mouth to reply and say  _ Yes. I do remember that and wish I didn't, Jim _ , the sound of a gunshot rattled through the house and forced the twins to jump in fright. CJ nearly fell out of his chair when Dark began to shout from the parlor down the hall, the demon himself being too far away for the Jim to be able to hear exactly what he was saying. Swallowing back the throw up beginning to crawl up his throat, CJ placed a hand over the hand that RJ had on his shoulder and listened carefully as two sets of shoes walked steadily back down the hallway leading to the kitchen. "Well how was I SUPPOSED to know that the chandelier would BREAK!" A distinct voice slurred from the hallway, the brother's ears perking up as a small smile joined his face with a wince.

" **I don't know, ** ** _Wilford_ ** **! How about common fucking sense!? You can't just walk into people's homes and start ** ** _shooting_ ** ** things!** " Dark's voice sounded more ominous then usual, his shadow followed by the reporter's on the hallway wall before finally the two men walked around the bend and came into view. Wilford beamed at the two twins as he twisted one end of his mustache, coming to a stop and leaning against the bartop table that stood in front of the Jims with both of his elbows resting behind him. Dark simply shoved his way past the reporter and crossed his arms again, boring holes into the side of Wilford's pink head before seemingly thinking of something else and sputtering out angrily, " **Not ** ** _only_ ** ** did you manage to ruin one of the last salvageable items in my house, it also took you nearly two HOURS to get here when I know for a ** ** _fact _ ** **that it could have easily taken you five minutes!** "

Snorting through his nose as he gave Dark a sideways look, Wilford grinned and said with a shrug, "Well, at least I ARRIVED! I got here eventually and that's  _ all _ that matters!" Pursing his lips as he glanced all around the kitchen with a curious look, the reporter's eyes roaming back to the twins in front of him before he narrowed them and asked with a point, "I've MET you two before, haven't I? No wait! Don't  _ tell _ me! I want to guess…"

"We met last night, Pink Jim!" CJ replied quickly as another spike of pain shot through his skull, making himself suck in a deep breath to keep himself from crying out in pain, "Don't you remember, Pink Jim? You almost got into a fight with Dark Jim!"

The twin leaned forward and placed his head in his hands once again, Wilford's confused face meeting his for the briefest of seconds before everything faded to black. "I daresay I don't remember that at ALL," Wilford replied with uncertainty, his voice quivering ever so slightly as he leaned backwards onto the counter again with a creak. CJ could feel himself drift into the realm of unconsciousness, his eyelids feeling heavy and his breathing evening out, before a cold pair of fingers met his neck as if to check his pulse. The Jim yelped and flung himself upward, almost slamming his head against the wall behind him as RJ tried to stabilize him by holding down his flailing arms. Wilford continued to speak, pointing at Dark with a smirk as he asked teasingly, "Did you INVITE me over yesterday, old chap!? What was it about anyway? Ooo! Was it about the MEETINGS!? Because if so-"

" **Wilford…** "

"What?!"

Dark gestured at CJ with an exasperated expression, his voice tight as he tried to rein in his emotions and say smoothly, but failing slightly, " **Will Dr. Iplier arrive soon? CJ has been sitting there for two hours and that cannot be good for a concussion.** " 

The red aura surrounding Dark lashed out towards the reporter at the demon's words, wrapping around Wilford's wrist and yanking him sharply to the side. The reporter let himself be pulled for a little bit before letting out a chuckle and swiping the red magic away from his arm, turning his attention back to the twins in front of him as he said confidently, "Oh YES! The good Doctor told me he should be here in," he looked at an imaginary watch on his right wrist, "ANYTIME! He said anytime he was available! Which should be SOON!"

Dark visibly relaxed as CJ sighed in relief, leaning into his brother's side as RJ pointed his microphone into his brother's face and asked, "Anything to comment on, Jim?"

Blowing a stream of air through his teeth, CJ muttered groggily into the microphone, "Thank  _ God _ , Jim. Praise the Lord. Let this torture end!"

RJ nodded along seriously as Wilford giggled in front of them with one hand covering his mouth and the other twirling a knife that had just  _ appeared  _ out of thin air over and over again almost hypnotically. The demon, however, was not amused by CJ's words. " **And yet, if we had gone to the Doctor's office like I had suggested prior to now, you would already be feeling better, you absolute child,** " Dark snapped as he stepped away from the group and walked towards the refrigerator as if to grab something to eat. 

RJ opened his mouth to say something, his brown eyes narrowing at the demon's shimmering form, but Wilford beat him to the punch with a sly grin. "NONSENSE, Darkie!" The reporter gushed as he stood straight and played with the tip of his knife absentmindedly. Dark, his head snapping towards Wilford at the nickname, growled as he bit into an apple, ruby eyes glowing like coals as the reporter continued to slur, "There isn't enough ROOM in the hospital for ALL of us! This... _manor_," he faltered slightly, his eyes going blank for a second before he snapped back to reality just as quickly and exclaimed, "Is a MUCH BETTER meeting spot, don'tcha think? YOU said so yourself, if I _recall_ _correctly_."

For the second time that day, silence fell over the room. But this time, it was anything but relaxing. CJ shuddered as the demon's face darkened and he asked with a hint of a threat lurking in his voice, " **What did you just say?** "

Instead of answering, Wilford simply winked and shrugged his shoulders, the apple in Dark's hand disappearing and reappearing into Wilford's as the doorbell rang loudly overhead…  _ again _ . The reporter gave Dark, who had a mixture of rage and bewilderment painted across his features, a smirk as he bit into the apple, pieces of apple sticking to his pink mustache as he sing songed, "That'll be the DOOR, Darkie-Doo!"

CJ perked up as he heard the doorbell ring, his head aching a tiny bit as he brushed his hair out of his sweating face and asked kinda pathetically, "Is that Doctor Jim, Pink Jim?"

All he got for a response was a chuckle and a chomp as Wilford bit into his apple with a smirk.


	7. Chapter 7

"I daresay, YOU are NOT the good Doctor, are you?"

King watched as the man he had come to know as Wilford Warfstache leaned against the large door frame with a frown, crossing his arms as he looked at the young monarch with a raised brow. Gulping silently to prevent an undignified squeak from escaping his throat, King's shook in fear as his loyal subjects, their bushy tails tickling the skin under his shirt, scampered up and down his sides in silent encouragement.

"Is… is this Markiplier Manor?" King asked cautiously, peanut butter slowly beginning to drip off his chin as his eyes flew to the ground to avoid the pink haired man's confused frown. He tried to contain the wince that threatened to double him over as one of his subjects scratched sharply at the skin over his ribcage.

"... _ yes, _ " Wilford replied matter of factly, making a gesture with his hands before making a noise of indignation and huffing loudly as if King had said something wrong, "That's not fair! I asked YOU a question FIRST!"

The young monarch's eyes widened as a spike of fear shot through his body, his feet unconsciously taking a step backwards as he remembered just how much of a  _ nut _ Wilford really was. He did NOT want to get on this  _ psychopath's _ bad side. Nervous chattering began anew from under his red cape as King inhaled deeply to gather courage, raising his head to look directly at Wilford with as much of a serious face as he could muster. "Well," he began quietly, mentally preparing himself for if the reporter in front of him decided to jump forward and stab him in the gut for no reason, "C-can I come in? For the meeting?"

"...WHAT the HELL are you talking about?"

The young monarch swallowed once more, fiercely restraining the urge to run back into the forest that he had walked to the house from. The squirrels under his cape weren't helping. "You know," he continued, rubbing behind his neck as he laughed faintly to lighten the mood. More globs of peanut butter fell to the ground as Wilford pushed himself off of the doorframe and smirked, King's brain freezing for a moment before shrieking at him to just run away. "The-the-the meeting Bim was talking abo-  _ ouch _ !" The young monarch was cut off by a sharp claw digging into the small of his back, a hiss of pain leaving his lips as he doubled over and tried to smack at the fiend that had tried to hurt him. Through the haze of pain clouding King's senses, a piercing ringing noise began to bounce through the air as a pair of dress shoes stopped alongside Wilford's pink converse.

" **What the Hell is this?** "

The squirrels that were clambering away from King's slapping hand froze almost immediately, the monarch himself tensing as he heard the distinct voice of who he considered to be the leader of the entities. "Wha-what?" King squeaked as he stood straight once again with a groan of pain, his eyes darting between the reporter and the demon standing in front of him as shivers of fear overtook his body.

Dark's eyes were a blazing crimson color as they flickered from Wilford's amused look, one of the reporter's hands twirling at the end of his pink mustache as he stared back, to the panicking King with a look that could most likely kill a man in one glance. " **I was not speaking to you, King of the Squirrels** ," Dark snapped angrily, his red and blue auras flaring up behind him as he turned his attention back to the colorful man in front of him, " **Wilford…** "

"Yes,  _ Darky-Doo _ ?" Wilford cooed, his hand falling from his face before he flashed King a grin that the monarch did NOT like the look of. It was almost  _ too _ wide and the glint in his eye made the expression all the more creepy.

" **What did you do and please, do try to be honest for once in your miserable life.** "

The reporter made a shocked noise and placed a hand on his chest dramatically, giving Dark a disheartened look before exclaiming, "Why  _ Darkipiler! _ I am WOUNDED, sir! When have I EVER LIED to you!?"

One of the squirrels running up and down King's chest nipped bitterly at the monarch's flesh, the silent protest to either run or hide not going unnoticed by the squirrel king himself. He bunched his hands into fists to distract himself from the pain and focused on what Dark and Wilford were saying in front of him.

" **Did you even ** ** _call_ ** ** Dr. Iplier, Wilford? Please tell me you are not that much of an idiot that you ** ** _forgot _ ** **to do a simple task such as enter a damn phone number."**

"Well…  _ I  _ didn't call him…"

" **You said you did!** "

"UNTRUE! I said that… Well, I can't really remember what I said, if I'm being COMPLETELY honest-"

The demon, his lips pulled into a thin line, pointed at the shaking King as his red aura flamed over his head and shouted, " **This man said that ** ** _Bim Trimmer_ ** ** invited him here!** " He shifted his cold, dead eyes to King for verification, which the monarch provided with a simple nod, before continuing as the ringing grew ever louder around the three men, " **How in the blazes did ** ** _Bimothy_ ** ** of all people even get involved in this predicament?! CJ needs medical attention ** ** _now_ ** ** and you are just wasting time, as always!** " Lowering his hand, Dark furiously shook his head and snapped with a disbelieving laugh, " **I just ** ** _knew_ ** ** this would happen! I should've just taken him to the hospital myself!** "

Wilford scoffed and rolled his eyes before pushing a strand of pink hair out of his face and slurring, "It's not as if I KNOW the good doctor's phone number off the top of my head, old chap! I can BARELY work my BLOODY phone as it is!" As if to emphasize his point, Wilford's phone appeared magically in his hand, King having to blink several times and push up his glasses just to make sure that he wasn't just seeing things. Noticing that the demon in front of him was slowly starting to fade out of existence, the air around him turning grey with dark magic, Wilford snapped his fingers in Dark's face in an attempt to grab his attention. The demon shot a fuming look towards the reporter, then growled and stormed back inside the house, the revenants of his magic leaving with him as the space he had occupied became filled with color once more.

"Um…?" King really didn't want to be the one to break the awkward silence, but he was starting to get anxious about being away from his kingdom for too long. The last time he had left for more then a few minutes, a riot concerning acorn storage had gotten to the point where half of King's private soldiers had been mutilated by hawks and many others had been thrown into the briar patch next to his castle/tree house. Needless to say, the squirrels needed their King. He looked at Wilford's pondering face carefully, trying to decide whether or not to interrupt what he assumed to be an important conversation going on inside the man's twisted brain. One of his soldiers, Henry, scurried the rest of the way up his body and popped out of the top of his cape, landing solidly on his shoulder and chattering excitedly about how big this acorn storage room was. Seeing that Wilford's eyes had shifted from his phone to the squirrel on his shoulder curiously, King cleared his throat and said as calmly as he could, "Should I leave? It seems that you guys really don't want me here…"

Silence followed his question, Wilford's eyes slowly unglazing themselves as he blinked a few times and smirked at King with a chuckle. He pointed at Henry with his free hand and asked lightly, "Is that YOUR squirrel, King of the Squirrels? Because it is positively, absolutely ADORABLE!" King nodded his head gently and Wilford reached out a tentative hand, his eyes coming to the young monarch as if for permission, and pet the top of Henry's head gently. He giggled with glee as he murmured, "My oh my, he IS soft!"

King mhmmed his response and soon enough, Wilford backed away with a face that had lightened up like a child's on Christmas morning. Henry chippered excitedly on the monarch's shoulder and Wilford raised an eyebrow before chuckling again. King gave his soldier a look out of the corner of his eye before saying to Wilford, "It's rare for Henry to let anyone pet him. He must like you."

"It only makes SENSE!" Wilford replied proudly, his hands hooked onto his belt hoops as he gave Henry a fond look. A loud slam followed by a bout of cursing echoed out from within the manor, both King and Wilford jumping in fright as Henry ran under King's cape once again. Whatever had fallen sounded like it had shattered like glass and, by the tone that Dark was using, was probably very important to him. Two other voices could be heard in the background, but King couldn't tell who they were based solely off of their muffled responses.

" **Wilford! Come here this instant!** " Dark's shrill ringing cut through the air again, King instantly cringing as he tried to cover his soldier's sensitive ears as best he could with his cape. The pink haired reporter remained motionless for a second, staring steadily off at something over King's shoulder as a  _ knife _ twirled anxiously through his fingers. King froze almost on instinct, his squirrels chattering anxiously as the threat became visible to them as well. The sound of another breaking object, this one sounding like it was wooden, along with another round of coarse swearing brought Wilford back from whatever ledge he had been teetering on.

The reporter breathed in deeply and, giving the monarch in front of him a blank stare, narrowed his eyes and said with a gesture of his knife, "Where the BLOODY HELL is the good doctor? Obviously I miscalculated how BADLY Dark needs him."

Shaking in fear as more globs of peanut butter fell from his cheeks, King  _ whimpered _ in a rather undignified way and whispered, "I don't know… Bim texted all of us at the same time and he never responded!" The knife glinted in the morning sunlight as it inched closer to King, the pink haired man giving the monarch an unamused look before pulling the knife away and throwing it at the side of the house with a satisfying thwock. The red hilt and light pink ribbon that adorned his knife contrasted with the stone and wooden house in an almost obnoxious way and reminded King way too much of the color of blood.

When he turned back towards the monarch, the reporter's features had softened and he had a small smile creeping at the corners of his mouth, the smile not looking as grotesque as one King had seen Wilford wearing earlier. Wilford held out a hand and, with a tilt of his head, said in an oddly lucid way, "Well then! You don't have to go anywhere! If Bim texted everyone, it must be for one of those meetings Dark was talking about! I'm sure the good doctor will be around any minute!" Grabbing the front of King's black shirt before the monarch even had time to protest, Wilford dragged him into the darkened house and slammed the door behind him, making King feel more or less trapped in the recesses of Dark's evil home. Wilford let go of his shirt and flashed him a smile as he skipped towards a hallway to the right, shouting over his shoulder excitedly, "Stay in there for a few moments while I tell Dark the good news!"


	8. 12 Hours Later...

By the time The Host had successfully hidden himself away from the rest of the egos by climbing a rickety old staircase that led to the Manor's attic, something that would have been absolutely prohibited had Darkiplier been at home, he knew two very important things.

One: Forty seven. Bim had texted all FORTY SEVEN of Markiplier's egos and alerted them of the meeting that was supposed to have commenced nearly seven hours ago. It was a bit excessive in The Host's humble opinion, even for the enthusiastic game show host. Dark, the only person The Host would trust to throw an extravagance like this, was nowhere in sight and would remain that way for another ten or so minutes.

Two: It turns out that this attic hadn't been used in decades and, as such, was completely littered with garbage that Dark had either been too lazy to remove or had purposefully ignored. It was most likely the latter if the broken frames and charred pieces of paper were any indication.

His sight flashed once more, his vision briefly returning as he surveyed the room to make sure he was still alone. His mumblings grew louder as the room faded to darkness once more, a slight smile appearing on his face as he cocked his head to the side. The Host's hands were being heated nicely by a steaming cup of tea he had swiped from the kitchen when Chefiplier hadn't been looking and he raised the smoky mug to his lips shakily.

And slowly, lowering the mug from his lips back to his lap, he began to recap everything he had "seen" or "felt" so far that day, trying to mentally remember all the words that came spilling out of his lips so that he could write it out into a script later. It could be useful in the future.

_ "Darkiplier, eldest of the Egos, had been forced to leave the manor to aid in the recuperation of CJ, the younger of the Jim Twins, before the party/meeting had the chance to even begin. The two souls battling within his consciousness screamed for him to stay within the safety of their prison, but the stubborn demon had not listened. He would have to find out about Bimothy's plan later." _

_ "Wilford Warfstache, while insanity had wrapped it's cold hands around his neck, had assumed that Bimothy would call the Doctor in good graces and tell him to help the Jim Twins as soon as he was physically able too. Of course, the childish lunatic had forgotten about the argument that had transpired between himself and the grudge holding game show host. And, as such, 'Good graces' had not been in Bimothy's mind when he had informed the rest of the Egos about the meeting." _

_ "The King of the Squirrels, a quiet sort of man that was truly in love with nature, had been the first to arrive. Right in the middle of an argument between the cotton candied psychopath and the licorice laced spirit, no less. After shrinking inwards on himself and trying to ignore the spiteful words hurtling across the entry lobby with vigor, the monarch had hidden himself at the top of the grand staircase with his scampering soldiers hidden carefully under his ruby cape."  _

_ "The Opinion Minion, a crude man with quite an awful sense of humor, had meandered into the building next with profinantites dripping from his lips, a black Lugar placed in his waistband and obscured perfectly by his red shirt. The criminal hasn't done anything illegal since the last time The Host has checked on his conscious mind, but The Host would not be surprised if a crime was committed this night by that foul mouthed man." _

_ "Elder Jeremiah, a man belonging to The Church of Jesus Christ and Latter day Saints, had been sure that the wealthy exterior of Markiplier Manor would have many rich rewards awaiting to stolen within its walls. However, upon seeing the carnage Dark had imposed upon the once beautiful home in his fits of rage and desperation, Jeremiah had quickly become disgruntled and had resigned himself to reading his Holy Book in the library where no one could see him swipe a golden pen or two for insurance purposes." _

_ "Dadiplier and his son Justin, two bleak souls that had been nearly snuffed out two years ago by a ferocious tiger, had almost not entered the Manor at all, the building's rot and sorrow burying deep within the bones of the father and urging him not to enter. The boy, his excitement never quelming from his youth even as he now sat in a wheelchair, had insisted they enter and so now they were here, Dadiplier trying to keep the innocent Justin as far away from the more… adult activities… as he could." _

The Host smirked slightly as his vision flashed to the father and son playing cards in the living room, Dadiplier trying desperately to keep Justin's attention on the game and not on the clearly intoxicated grownups dancing around them. The Host raised his mug to his lips once more and sipped gently, mentally closing off his sight so he could just enjoy the simple taste of the tea without the distraction of everyone else's thoughts and feelings. After a particularly large gulp that nearly set his tongue ablaze, The Host lowered the mug from his face and continued his narration.

_ "Brian had been at home playing chess when he had received Bimothy's message, the addict quickly leaving his residence to join the rest of the entities at Markiplier Manor. It didn't take long, however, for the long acclaimed streak of no binge watching that Brian had been so proud of to completely dissolve once the addict had found the ancient TV Darkiplier kept in his second sitting room for nostalgic purposes. Brian has been sitting in there for almost twelve hours, if The Host has counted correctly." _

_ "The Silver Shepherd was one The Host's good friends, something that The Host could not say he had very often if he was being honest. And even though the two had only just become acquainted two or three weeks prior to today, The Host could already tell that Silver's choice in women was less then ideal. Now, with a new breakup with Roxanne sitting heavily on his chest, the superhero had spent all of his time at Markiplier Manor drinking bottle after bottle of booze that Wilford had so graciously supplied him. It would be a wonder if Silver didn't wake up with the worst hangover of his life tomorrow morning." _

_ "Captain Falcon was an entity that could easily be described with one word: LOUD. The racer talked, ate, drank, fucked, and slept loudly, all things that The Host had unfortunately found out when he had used his sight on the excitable racer earlier that night. It had caused The Host a splitting headache just to look into Captain Falcon's thoughts for ten seconds. Oh. And the racer had also managed to shatter the front door into a million pieces with a shout upon arriving to the property, a fact that would no doubt come back to bite him in the ass once Darkiplier returned home." _

_ "Evan, who was an ex-member of the disbanded children's band The W!ggles, had spent the beginning of his day at Markiplier Manor sitting out in the driveway and complaining to anyone who would listen about how Jason Derulo had stolen his band's name in one of his songs. Then he had fallen asleep and remained that way with spitel dripping from his lips until around five o'clock, when one of the other entities had kicked him in the head and told him to wake up to eat dinner (which had been Chef Iplier's lasagne and had been absolutely HEAVENLY in The Host's humble opinion)." _

_ "Miles, one of the team members of The Big Maker 6, had been the only entity to decline his invite to Markiplier Manor, the new operator for the team whispering through an expensive earpiece about horrible things that might happen if the superhero went to the meeting. The Host predicts that although he ignored his invitation the first time, Miles will eventually end up in the Manor because… well… Bimothy can be quite persuasive when he wants to be." _

_ "Wallace had spent the majority of his evening inside the Manor while sipping on a beer in the expensive living room, trying to drown out as much of the noise surrounding him by closing his eyes and focusing on evening out his breathing. Not many of the other entities knew that the apocalypse survivor was even in Darkiplier's home since he had so sneakily slide in through the patio doors at the back of the house. The Host only knew this because he had used his sight once on the gruff man and had immediately regretted it when images of blood and gore came to the forefront of his mind." _

_ "Bill had been a simple farmer up until two days ago, when his village (including his wife) had accused him of being the werewolf who had killed the local seer and tried to execute him by hanging. Luckily for him, he escaped and came to Markiplier Manor as a refuge from the crazed mob that wanted to hunt him down. He had been talking to Evan and Brian for a good portion of the night, doing almost nothing interesting until he got scared by The Googles (which The Host had found mildly amusing)." _

_ "Googliplier was, without a doubt, one of the more  _ volatile _ of the entities. And now, with three more duplicates of himself that were (mostly) equally as sardonic and short tempered as the original, The Host could easily say that Google was the most dangerous being in the Manor at the current moment. His copies housed his emotions, Google Red containing anger, Google Yellow (or Oliver, as he liked to be called) housing fear, and Google Green controlling everything else. The Googles were now quietly observing the other entities, discerning who was a friend and who was a foe through their shared networking." _

_ "Bimothy Trimmer, the stubborn game show host who had started this ordeal to begin with, had arrived at Markiplier Manor around twelve o'clock with Chipotle bags and a smile that mirrored a cat's who had just eaten the canary. It didn't take him long to be distracted by all the other entities as he was, of course, a very social being. At the moment (or at least since the last time The Host used his sight on the game show host), he was sucking face with who The Host believed to be Google Green." _

The Host's sight flashed once more on it's own accord, The Host pulling a face that was a mixture of disgust and embarrassment as the image of Bimothy and Google Green roughly making love in one of the many hallways littering the second floor entered his mind, the moans of pleasure and slap of skin on skin that echoed down the hallway making The Host's face turn warm and red. Shaking his head sharply, his sight vanished quickly along with the two entities and their… vigorous activities. Breathing out deeply as he tried to gather his train of thought, The Host clenched his mug even tighter and began his narrations anew.

_ "Brad, a kind man who had made one too many choices based solely on the bottle, had drank almost all of the beer that Dark had stored for a century and was close to finishing a full bottle of champagne when he had passed out in one of the guest bedrooms on the second floor, his dreams fitfully as his unsuccessful marriage and messy divorce played over and over again in his mind. He missed his son as well, if The Host's hazy vision had told him anything." _

_ "Ed Edgar was a peculiar man with a peculiar line of work that The Host didn't like to acknowledge in the slightest. The cowboy had received his text during one of his "auctions" and had originally ignored the blaring message. Finally, he grew so annoyed with the insistent ringing of his cellular device that he canceled the reminder of his busy schedule for the day and drove all the way to the Manor, muttering something about glittery bastards under his breath. Ed had been telling an exciting story of his time in New Mexico during a harsh drought, a half drunk glass of whiskey in his hand, the last time The Host had checked in on him." _

The Host pursed his lips, a sudden book idea sweeping through his mind like a tidal wave. He smiled thinly and tucked the idea to the corner of his mind, praying that he would remember to write down the idea later. He continued.

_ "Wing, as he was affectionately nicknamed by his friends and fellow pilots, had arrived in a flurry of motion, his brown eyes flitting around the room anxiously once he had entered into the dank Manor. It had been clear to The Host, who had arrived only ten minutes prior, that the man was exceedingly untrustful of the other entities circling and talking about him, locking himself away in one of the bedrooms on the far side of the first floor the first chance he had. His mind was too scattered for The Host to read properly and that concerned-" _

The Host paused. He listened. Frowning slightly, his mummering beginning anew as he narrated the totally dark and totally (?) empty staircase he had climbed into the attic to escape the raging ruckus downstairs. Nothing was there… right?

Breathing out deeply, The Host straightened his trench coat with one hand and tightened his hold on his mug as he somewhat hesitantly renewed his narration of the different entities. He wanted to be able to narrate what was going on around him, but… the thoughts in his head needed to come out one way or another. And there was no pen or paper in his metaphorical sight, soo…

_ "To put it plainly, Bimothy and Scent O'plier did not get along very well at all. Scent had the money; Bimothy had the fame. They had been quite jealous of each other for many years and always argued about the most obnoxious things. So, of course, when Scent had received his text from Bimothy explaining the location of the meeting, the sugar baby had immediately informed Margie (his Sugar Mama, The Host had discovered) that he was going out for an evening with friends. That calm facade that Scent had had for his beloved had lasted about five seconds inside the Manor, the sugar baby immediately hunting down Bimothy and slapping his face so hard it left a red handprint on his cheek. It had taken three of the four Googles to pry the two feuding men apart and Scent, sporting a brand new black eye, had slunk off to the kitchen in search of booze to clear his mind." _

_ "Frank had arrived soon after that, sporting a sour look and bloodied police uniform as he wrote notes in his notebook and told Wilford that the entities in the Manor were being too loud. As a response, Frank had been yanked into the house by the giggling (clearly drunk) psychopath and shoved into the middle of the dancing crowd, the squirming bodies surrounding him filling the policeman with an unpleasant feeling in his stomach. Eventually, he had escaped what he had thought to be a cocoon of death that surrounded him and menandered his way into the clean dining room. The policeman was now currently taking a nap, his head pillowed graciously by arms as he slept soundly and snored loudly." _

_ "Kinkiplier had arrived almost directly after Frank had trudged his way into the dining room, The Host caring not too much for the boardline obscene entity as Kink threw himself headfirst into the fray of the dancing guests. The last The Host had seen of him had been when The Host had accidently flashed his sight and saw Kink twerking to Beyonce's 'Single Ladies'." _

_ "Doctor Edward Iplier-" _

The Host cleared his throat with a cough, taking another sip of his tea as if it would reduce the warm coloring beginning to fill in his cheeks. He had paid close attention to the doctor's… everything… when he had seen the grumbling man for the first time. Feeling the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement, The Host tried to ignore his interest in Dr. Iplier and continue his narrations normally. If only his words would flow like he wanted them to and not just focus on the doctor's thoughtful eyes and intriguing smile… God-fucking-dammit.

_ "...Doctor Edward Iplier was, ironical, supposed to be working at the hospital when he had gotten the group chat message, to which he had promptly ignored with a grumble and continued to drive slowly to his work. It was only when he realised that the meeting was not optional did he curse loudly and make a U-turn in the middle of downtown LA rush hour traffic, intending on speeding to the meeting and then arriving to the hospital a few hours late. Little did he know that the "meeting" would take all night and most of the following morning, leaving him with no choice but to call in sick at the last moment. Quite unfortunate for The Jims and Darkiplier, who had been waiting patiently at the hospital for the doctor to arrive, but quite an opportunity for The Host, who would love to-" _

The Host slapped his free hand over his mouth and silenced his own train of thought. There were just some things that should not be narrated aloud. Removing his hand, he started speaking again at a much lower volume then he had before, an irrational fear that someone could hear him creeping into the corners of his mind.

_ "The King of FNAF, full name being Mike Schmit, had come stumbling into the Manor at around 5 o'clock pm, his bubblegum colored locks mangled and twisted a top his head and his overalls stained crimson with drying blood. The Host had given the security guard a wide berth as he had watched Mike shuffle into the lobby and trudge slowly up the winding staircase immediately, no doubt looking for a place to sleep after his seemingly exhausting day at work. No one stopped him from his ascent." _

_ "The Host does not know much about the man who followed the weary Mike; He only knows that Francis, the entity's profession being that of a surgeon that supposedly (though The Host doubts this) works with Dr. Iplier, shared a past with The Host's now deceased brother-" _

The Host cut himself off and tried to erase the sudden image of The Author that had popped into his mind. He did not want to think about his sadistic brother right now; He'll, he NEVER wanted to think about Alexander. The things he did… and the things he craved… it made shivers of fear and disgust tingle down The Host's spine. If Francis was in anyway associated with The Author, then The Host didn't want any part of the crimson headed man. Calming his spiraling thoughts with a deep breath, The Host relaxed and began to speak again.

_ "Chef Iplier was the younger brother of Dr. Iplier, choosing to create a life surrounded by pastries and recipes rather then a life full of medical supplies and patients who need his help like Dr. Iplier had. Upon arriving to the Manor with a similar disgruntled attitude as his brother, the chef had marched into the kitchen and quickly claimed it as his own. He had then whipped up a delicious batch of lasagna that The Host will absolutely return to later when all the other entities are asleep because Jesus Christ. It had been so fucking good." _

_ "Bushiplier was a rather shy ego by nature, preferring to spend time in the quiet forest rather then with walking, talking people. But, no matter how much he had pleaded with Bimothy to exempt him from the meeting, Bush found himself at Markiplier Manor regardless. His initial thought had been to hide in the large hedges that grew at the fenced in entrance of the manor, but, after discovering a rather frightened King at the top flight of the stairs, Bush had hesitantly went up there instead. He and King were still sitting there, whispering under their breaths as they exchanged stories about the woods and about animals in general." _

_ "Though he had been shot only a few weeks back, it turns out that Septiplier was much harder to kill then originally thought. He had been elated to receive Bimothy's text concerning the meeting because now he had a vicious vendetta concerning a certain pink haired psychopath that he needed to smooth out. Luckily, no assassinations have taken place so far tonight, with Septiplier only giving Wilford a very stern talking to which went in one ear and out the other rather quickly. Which was fine for now; Septiplier would have plenty of time of beating the shit out of Wilford come morning. Septiplier had been resting in the living room the last time The Host had checked, his hands folded tightly over his chest and his poofy red hair falling into his eyes as he tried to sleep amid the chaos that surrounded him." _

_ "Yanderiplier was a relatively young entity, as displayed by her immediate giggly nature once she had arrived at Darkiplier's residence. She seemingly bounced off the walls as she walked through the entire manor and explored all of the rooms by herself, a haunting lullaby falling from her lips as played with a piece of green hair that had originally been placed inside a locket around her neck. Eventually calming down, Yanderiplier returned to the thriving party and had woken up Septiplier to briefly have a friendly conversation about clothing styles before she meandered off towards the kitchen in search of sweets." _

_ "Bingiplier had arrived shortly after nine o'clock, a pleasant smile across his face and a worn out skateboard tucked under his arm. Marching through the door with an excited "Sa Dudes!" to the nearest entities, Bing had discarded his board by placing it against the nearest wall and, almost immediately after wandering farther into the party, had nearly gotten into a shouting match with Google Blue and Google Red about what the definition of a 'good time' was (The Host had found this argument to be quite humorous). Bing had stepped away from the two needling androids once the argument had concluded and instead focused his attention on having as much fun as possible. The youngest android had already taken five shots of beer the last time The Host had 'seen' him." _

_ "Dr. Plier had arrived inconspicuously, blending into the crowd of entities with a smile and a joke on his lips whenever he was bumped into someone. He had eventually ended up in a conversation with Dr. Iplier and The Host himself, the trio standing quietly outside on the back veranda overlooking the forest to right and the city to left. The Host had learned quickly that Dr. Plier did indeed love puns, tongue twisters, and symbolistic metaphors, making his occupation as a psychiatrist very obvious (at least to The Host). It was after this conversation that The Host excused himself and journeyed deeper into the recesses of Markiplier Manor, the two doctors still talking merrily as The Host walked away." _

_ "Santaiplier had only been in the Manor for three minutes at most, the entity quickly popping into existence right in the middle of the dance floor and dropping a few canisters of beer into the middle of the floor before disappearing once more." _

_ "Eric Derekson was one of the last entities to arrive at the Manor, the shivering and sniffling man being one of the most nervous people The Host had ever laid his eyes on. Clutching a small yellow blanket tightly in his shaking fists, Eric had shuffled into the Manor and stuck to the wall like he was glued to it. He had briefly joined a conversation with Bing, who had observed the nervous man's prosthetic legs with great interest, before Eric had slunk up the stairs and hid in the first room he laid his eyes upon. He was still there now, but thankfully asleep (His dreams were littered with fire and screams, The Host had observed curiously when he had first discovered the little hatch that led to the attic)." _

_ "Reynolds Voorhees had arrived soon after Eric, an anxious expression painted across his features that was quickly replaced with a smile, and had almost instantaneously gotten along with the entities dancing within the Manor. The Host suspects it is NOT because Reynolds is from New York that he gets along with everyone so well… The Host suspects it has something to do with the two bottles of beer the construction worker has drunk so far along with the marijuana he had smoked before entering Markiplier Manor. Jesus Christ." _

The Host cleared his throat once more and shifted positions in his wooden seat, crossing one leg over the other with his now cooled tea resting gently on his lap.

_ "Derek Derekson was the father of Eric Derekson. There is not much to say about the salesman other then that The Host does not like the look of him (American flag button up… How patriotic) and that he interacted with Ed Edgar quite nicely once he had a beer bottle safely in his hand. The Host suspects something is up with Derek and Eric, but he will wait for the morning before beginning any further investigations." _

_ "The final entity to arrive at the Manor, just around the stroke of midnight, was a stoic man by the name of Priestiplier. Matthew, for that was his true name, had outright refused to enter the premise of the Manor and remained outside the door stubbornly, not moving a single inch even as the other guests (especially Wilford) pleaded with him to have a drink and come inside. He still did not move, simply flipping open to a dog eared page of his Bible and mumbling the sacred words under his breath, even as the large, heavy oaken door was slammed heavily into his face. As far as The Host knows, Matthew is still out there." _

Humming with satisfaction, The Host allowed all the words he had spoken sink into his subconscious, praying that he would be able to remember what he had just uttered once he had a quill and parchment in front of him. Muttering lowly to himself about the environment of the Manor so that he could get a better picture of where he was, The Host used the hand not holding his mug to brush his slipping, bloodied bandages back up around his eyes, trying not to grunt in pain as his fingers made contact with the sensitive skin under the rough material.

All these years and his eyes still hadn't healed all the way. Shaking his head, The Host supposed grimly that The Author would probably be proud that his "work" still held to this day.

Shifting in his seat once more, The Host tilted his head closer to a circular window to his right that he had narrated about upon reaching the attic, the cool night air leaking through the glass and cooling his warmed cheeks as a sense of peace overcame the normally chaotic entity. Far below, The Host could hear the "meeting" continuing to rage on through the night, the sounds of laughter and singing feeling his ears as a small smile crept onto his lips. There would be Hell to pay once the easily angered Darkiplier arrived home and once the morning sun finally rose in the East. But, for now, the stars would glimmer and shine down from the inky sky and the entities would laugh and dance and forget about the blazing heat that would scorch them in just a few short hours. And that was just fine, in The Host's opinion.

That was just fine...


	9. Chapter 9

As it turns out, watching someone teleport, whether it be in a swirl of bubbles and glitter or in an infinite void of oblivion that folded time and space into itself, is completely different from actually going through the act of teleporting youtself. And, as CJ felt himself slowly vanishing from one plane of existence into a grey void of unpleasantness and then back into existence once more, the Jim twin felt like he was going to throw up. "Dark Jim!" CJ could faintly hear RJ exclaim as he felt the swirling black magic that surrounded his body recede back to the demon from whence it came. Bending his knees and placing his hands on his legs for support, CJ felt the telltale hotness of immanent vomit crawling up his throat, using one hand to swipe his black hair out of his eyes as he began to pant. A firm hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him upright once more, the twin wincing as the clinical lights above him blared annoyingly in his eyes. RJ, who let his hand rub his brother's shoulder reassuringly, continued to ramble, "Dark Jim! You broke Jim! You broke Jim with your magic! How are you feeling, Jim? Do you feel broken?"

CJ acknowledged his twin's question with a tiny nod before finally heaving over and throwing up the sausages he had eaten earlier that morning into one disgusting heap of green and orange goo.

" **Ah. That's just lovely, isn't it?** " Wiping at the corner of his mouth with his hand, CJ shakely looked at the demon standing in front of him with a deep breath, willing himself not to throw up again as the smell of his bile bombarded his senses. Pursing his lips with a grimace, Dark crossed his arms and pointedly looked at the vomit that coated the tiled floor in front of him and snapped with a flash of blue behind him, " **You couldn't have waited another ten minutes?** "

"He's broken, Dark Jim! It's not his fault!" RJ exclaimed from behind his twin, CJ suddenly feeling hands under his armpits as someone tried to help him stand straight once more. Dark snorted, a noise that made CJ cringe inwardly and shuffle backwards into his brother for safety, and briskly turned on his heel, stalking towards what seemed to be a front desk (if the lady looking extremely bored behind it indicated anything). "On a scale of 1 to 2,000, how are feeling, Jim?" RJ asked anxiously, his voice significantly softer then it had been before as he helped his twin stumble towards the desk that Dark was standing at.

A spark of pain ripped through his skull as CJ tried to get his feet to do what he wanted them to, a sharp feeling at the back of his brain almost causing the twin to fall to his knees. He whimpered as he stumbled, but managed to keep his footing as he answered with a whisper, "Negative 25,000,000, Jim." He paused, gripping onto the front of RJ's blue button up before continuing with the beginnings of tears in his eyes, "It  _ hurts _ , Jim!"

RJ seemed to say something as a reply, concern gleaming from his eyes, but CJ couldn't hear it. All the noise that surrounded him seemed to fade away into nothing as a dull ringing resounded inside his ears. His knees felt weak again and before he knew it, he was falling to the floor as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Still faintly aware of his surroundings, CJ could hear RJ cry out in shock as his twin tried to cushion his fall as much as possible by placing his hands under his head.

But then his vision returned, the Jim twin inhaling loudly through his mouth as he focused on his brother's distraught face above him and on the sounds of footsteps coming closer to him. "Jim… Am I dying?" CJ whispered, his brown eyes widening with fear as Dark and two men in white lab coats also entered into his eyesight. Clenching his hands into fists, the twin, with help from RJ, slowly sat up from his seat on the floor, reaching behind his head with one hand and feeling something wet leak out of his hair and skull. He pouted when he returned his hand to the front of his face and saw crimson blood staining his fingertips.

One of the men in the lab coats laughed lightly, pushing his glasses higher up his nose as he replied with a German accent, "No, but you do have a concouzzion, az evidence from zhe blood." Crouching down so that he was the same height as the twin, the man grabbed CJ's hand and examined the bloody fingers with a click of his tongue before muttering softly, "A very zeriouz concuzzion, but a concuzzion none zhe lezz."

Letting out an anguished cry that rattled the inside of CJ's brain, RJ fell to the floor next to his twin and placed a hand around his shoulders, placing his head on CJ's blue shoulder as he gulped back his tears. "Jim!" RJ exclaimed sadly, his voice cracking as he tightened his grip on CJ, "You can't die yet, Jim! We haven't even interviewed the world's largest donut yet, Jim, and I can't do the interview ALONE!"

After hearing his brother's words, fear began to trample it's way into CJ's stomach with a growl, his heart growing heavy as he thought back to all the things he had done during his ninety-three years of life and realising that he had, indeed, never filmed or filmed RJ interviewing the world's largest donut in all that time. "Oh no," CJ whimpered, his eyes darting up to the men and Dark, who were talking about something or another, and then over to his brother, who had tears streaming down his face, "We've never even seen Pompeii, Jim. We've never seen the world's largest ball of twine either!"

"I KNOW, JIM!" RJ wailed, the men above the two brothers sending questioning looks to the twins that CJ could  _ feel _ even without looking up. RJ pulled away for a second to wipe his nose with the sleeve of his blue shirt before anxiously, his eyes dancing across the room, whimpering, "I don't want you to die, Jim! You're my brother!"

CJ opened his mouth to reply, reaching his bloody hand up to brush his floppy hair out of his face, but the man that had spoken before beat him to it. "Vell, likely for you," he began cheerfully, casting a knowing look towards Dark before continuing with a smile, "You are in zhe bezt hozputal in zhe whole world! My name iz Doctor Scheenplestein and…"

CJ didn't get to hear the rest of the  _ doctor _ 's words. Hospital. He was in… a… HOSPITAL.

"Nonononononononono," the Jim twin began to panic as he tried to stand and found that whenever he did, the room would start spinning and he'd fall back to the ground. RJ held onto his arm, trying to say something to his twin that sounded like reassurance, but CJ couldn't hear him at all. His hearing had tunneled and now all he could hear was the word  _ hospital Hospital HOSPITAL  _ echoing loudly in his ears. Dr. Scheenplestein looked taken aback as CJ began to sob, taking a step backwards and saying something to Dark with a raised eyebrow before gesturing to something behind him to which Dark promptly shook his head with an annoyed expression.

The other man in the doctor's coat tried to grab CJ by the arm, presumably to help the Jim twin stand. But, instead of allowing the man to drag him upright, CJ shrieked like he was about to be murdered and held onto RJ's shirt for dear life, his brain refusing to cooperate as he simply held onto his brother and continued to whisper, "nononononononono," under his breath.

" **I hope you're happy with yourself** ," CJ heard Dark snap through the constant noise going through his brain, the twin's head beginning to ache sharply as he felt a hand run up and down his back in an attempt to calm him down. The ringing that followed Dark everywhere he went was at a painful pitch to listen to as CJ watched the demon step forward and bend down so he could look at the twin directly. Dark's face had softened significantly, his usually flaming aura laying close to his body as he spoke again, blue eyes gleaming curiously at CJ, " **I wouldn't have taken you here if I didn't think your condition was serious.** " The demon paused, watching CJ with an intense gaze as he rolled his shoulders back into place with a pop that made the Jim twin cringe. " **Nobody here is going to hurt you. I simply won't allow it. But you have to let the doctors examine you, just to make sure something isn't permanently broken.** "

"Dark Jim's right, Jim," CJ heard RJ rumble above him, his eyes filled with concern as he pushed his twin off of him and back onto the floor beside him. The Jim twin whimpered and tried to scamber back to his brother, but a firm hand pushed him away again. "What happens if you get hurt in the same spot again, Jim? You could actually get very, very hurt, Jim, and I don't want you to die. Even though sometimes I say that I wish you would, I don't really want you to." RJ looked like he was about to burst into tears again, his face all red and puffy as he wiped a rogue tear off his face roughly with a huff.

CJ could feel his throat dry up as he looked from his distraught brother to Dark's concerned expression to the doctors that were standing overhead with kind expressions on their faces. The back of his head throbbed with pain as CJ looked back at RJ with a wince. Just because the last time he had been at the hospital had been awful doesn't mean that this time has to be awful… right? "Jim?" CJ asked meekly, his twin's head snapping from a poster behind to his left to meet CJ's eyes with a hopeless expression on his face. The Jim twin took a deep breath and asked quietly, "Will you stay here with me? Please?"

A wide smile overtook RJ's face as he slowly grabbed CJ's arms and helped him to his feet once more. "Of course, Jim!" RJ practically beamed as he allowed CJ to place most of his body weight onto him. Watching Dark rise to a standing position as well, CJ began to slowly walk towards what he now knew to be a reception desk with his brother by his side the whole time. The doctors were now talking quietly with Dark about something or another as they shot concerned looks towards the Jim twins, CJ hearing fragments of their conversation as RJ dropped him gently into one of the comfy chairs by the desk.

Right as he was about to let go of his arms, CJ grabbed one of RJ's sleeves and asked quietly, "Can Dark Jim stay too, Jim? He's scary, so nothing bad will happen if he's here, Jim."

RJ smiled again, this one a tad bit strained, as he wrenched his arm free and replied, "Yeah. I'll make sure he stays, Jim. I'll protect you and he'll protect you! It'll be double the protection, Jim!"

Both of the siblings laughed shallowly.


	10. Chapter 10

It could have been ten hours or ten minutes by the time CJ finally awakened from his slumber, his eyes creaking open slowly as his vision was filled with darkness and a faint blue glow coming from the monitors hooked up to his arm beside him. The Jim twin shivered as he widened his eyes and tried to sit up straight, the cords hooked onto his arm keeping him firmly in place to his dismay. The air smelled heavily of cleaning fluid with a slight undertone of cedarwood, the smell nearly obnoxious to CJ as he flopped back onto the hospital bed with a tired noise and tried to see more of the obscured details of his room to no avail. The darkness was almost complete.

CJ shivered again and tugged the thin sheets that were surrounding his torso further up his body so that the sheets were curled nicely under his chin, the Jim closing his eyes slowly as he tried to ignore the beeping of the heart monitor beside him.

_ Beep, beep, beep, beep… _

There was no point in trying to fall asleep; CJ could already tell that THAT was going to be nearly impossible. He had too many things to think about, like what  **The Jim News** ' next interview would be, how 'Delia' was doing all alone at the Manor, where the Hell RJ was and why he wasn't here with CJ right now. As many swarming thoughts plagued his mind, CJ crunkled up his nose and curled onto his side noisily, pulling the sheets with him so much that his sock clad feet were exposed to the lowering temperature of the room. Stuffing his feet back under the sheets after a moment of attempting to freeze them off, the Jim twin breathed in deeply and immediately started to violently cough when cedarwood overtook his nostrils.

_ Beep, beep, beep, beep… _

Tears leaked steadily out of the corners of his eyes as he managed to get his coughing under control, CJ flickering his eyes open briefly to rub away at the wetness with one of his fists while sleep crept it's way back into his mind like a snake winding around its prey. He tucked his arm back under the sheets and let the hard bedding envelop him in its embrace, the Jim twin letting himself fall back into the blissful peace he had had less then five minutes ago. The thoughts in his ravenet head didn't stop because how could he even  _ try  _ to fall asleep if all he could think about were carnations and that guy from the Flex Tape commercial?

_ Beep, beep, beep, beg… _

"Oh my God!" CJ moaned with a painful shake of his head, groaning in annoyance as he, determined to keep his eyes closed, reached over his shoulder and removed the pillow he had been laying on from behind him. His intention was to smother his face with the fluffy object and block out the bleach and cedarwood currently burning the inside of his nose, his arms getting goosebumps from the cold air as he held the pillow above his head. The cords attached to his arms pulled uncomfortably on his skin as he placed the pillow lightly on his face and breathed in the soothing scent of lavender and honey.

Drowsiness began to overtake him again, his eyes fluttering open and shut rapidly as he tried to clear his mind and relax. But, of course, clearing someone's mind when they are consistently jumping from one topic to the next is like trying to herd coy fish; It just doesn't fucking work, no matter how many times you try it. CJ bunched his hands into fists and exhaled in frustration, grabbing the pillow above him in a firm grip and tossing it as hard as he could across the room with a satisfied noise.

"Aha! Well, that didn't work, Jim," CJ said triumphantly, completely forgetting in his half delusional state that RJ wasn't even in the room with him. Flopping his arms up on top of sheets, completely ignoring the goosebumps now forming in clumps on his arms and neck, CJ smirked and said with a yawn as he closed his eyes, "Jim. This is what being sleep deprived feels like! Write it down, Jim! Write it down!"

The Jim twin then opened his eyes and saw blood.

BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD

EVERYWHERE.

Shrill screams ripped through CJ's mind, the Jim twin covering his ears with a cry of pain as his head began to pound and practically vibrate from the force of the hellish sounds. The cords in his arms were promptly ripped out of his veins from his own fearfully, jerky movements, CJ's own blood spraying all across the pristine white sheets and his quivering form. He curled into a ball as the rank smell of iron mixed with cedarwood bombarded his senses, droplets of blood dripping down from the ceiling and onto the Jim twin's face with a splash.

CJ let out a sob as fresh tears began to glide their way through the blood coiling across his cheeks and pooling in his mouth, the Jim twin slamming his eyes shut as the fear of drowning in blood became more and more of a possibility in his mind.

_ Beg, beg, beg, beg...BEG _

"Look at me."

And CJ did… and then he screamed in terror.

\---

The next time he opened his eyes, the world was quiet and grey once more. The room, which he could blurrily make out as a hospital ward, wasn't black as pitch anymore and there were no machines hooked up to his arm to his relief. CJ shakily took a breath and tried to unparalyze his limbs as he woke up, willing his heart to slow down and praying away the bloody images replying at the forefront of his thoughts. 

It had been a dream. Hopefully. See, the problem was that CJ hadn't had a dream that… that  _ vivid _ in nearly ninety-three years, the last time being about… The Jim twin gulped and turned on his side, trying to make himself as small as possible as he tried not to panic. "...J-jim?" CJ called meekly, cracking one eye open with a dry sob as he searched the room for his twin brother, "Jim! Are- are you here?"

No answer. 

Raising a concerned brow, CJ whimpered, tears bristling at the corners of his eyes, and hid himself further under the hospital sheets, trying to ignore the sharp metallic smells that surrounded him still or the tiny droplets of blood that carved a path slowly down his face.

He pretended that  _ those _ were tears.

\---

It could have been ten hours or ten minutes by the time CJ heard the door to his room open, the Jim twin peeking above his cocoon silently as he watched Dark practically float into the room with RJ hot on his heels. Dark's aura was whipping around the demon's body in irritation as he meandered his way over to one of the visitor chairs across from the bed and sank into it with a roll of his shoulders and a crack. RJ, who was biting at his thumbnail while gazing uncomfortably around the room, decided to walk right beside his brother and hugged his arms around himself with a sigh. " **Is he alright?** " CJ heard Dark tiredly ask, his two-toned voice making the Jim twin's skin crawl with disgust, as RJ shifted overhead and looked down at his "sleeping" brother with concern in his eyes.

Even though all he wanted to do was pull RJ in for a hug, CJ didn't want the demon across the room to watch him move and see that he was awake. He didn't want Dark anywhere near him or RJ at the moment. "Dark Jim, I swear that I heard him scream," RJ replied, his voice unusually quiet as he scrambled to the other side of the bed to check on CJ's face. CJ tried to remain as still as possible, his stuttered breathing making him shake like a leaf, as he felt RJ's eyes roam over his face and examine his sleeping form. After a few moments of silence, RJ pulled away with a click of his tongue and continued with a tone of concern in his voice, "There is blood on his face, Dark Jim."

" **This there now?** " CJ tried not to move as he heard Dark's voice slither across the room with a question lingering in his voice. The demon shifted in his seat before standing up completely, the coldness of his form making CJ get goosebumps… just like in his dream. Uh oh. The panic was starting to creep into his bones again.

RJ wiped a bit of the crimson liquid off of his brother's face, examining the dot of red on his thumb with furrowed eyebrows, as Dark joined him next to CJ with a crunch of his broken bones. "Why is there blood on his face, Dark Jim? He shouldn't have any! It doesn't make any sense! We were right outside the door the whole time, Dark Jim! What could he have possibly done to get blood on his face!?" RJ exclaimed, his questions shooting out a million miles a minute, before he cleaned his hand with his shirt carelessly.

CJ tried to keep his teeth from chattering as Dark huffed and, brushing CJ's hair out of his face almost tenderly, replied coldly, " **I don't ** ** _know_ ** **, RJ. Perhaps he hurt himself while he slept-** "

"Bullshit! He has NEVER done that before, Dark Jim! What if Jim had been screaming for help!? Dark Jim, what if someone had tried to hurt Jim!?"

Dark growled in annoyance as he stalked away from the bed, his red aura whirling around RJ angrily as his blue aura stayed stubbornly by CJ's side. " **No one was in this room** ," Dark snapped, his black pits for eyes alternating between the twins as he fixed the front of his suit jacket with a few harsh tugs. CJ, the bright light of the demon's blue aura visible even with his eyes closed, could practically feel the wispy touches the blue aura was giving his face, his hair standing on end as the weird feeling finally stopped and the blue light faded before his eyes. " **We were outside the door the entire time. No one could get in here even if they wanted to. I wouldn't allow it.** " Dark's words had a sharp edge to them as his ringing increased significantly, CJ opening his eyes a sliver to watch the demon level his twin with a very potent death stare.

RJ huffed loudly and placed his hands on his hips, flicking a piece of hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head before exclaiming, "Just because you think you are the most powerful person in the world doesn't mean you are, Dark Jim! Someone could have still hurt Jim through his sleep!"

" **He had a ** ** _night terror,_ ** ** RJ.** "

"How do you know, Dark Jim, hm?"

RJ was obviously becoming increasingly distraught over CJ's wellbeing, his tone almost reaching the same pitch as Dark's aura as he took CJ's cold head into his own. The Jim twin could hear Dark practically  _ hiss _ in displeasure as he growled with a note finality, " **I simply don't have the patience for this today.** " His ringing faded slightly as CJ heard the door to his room slam open once more, a weird mixture of relief and dread filling his gut as the Jim twin assumed the demon was about to leave his room.

"Where are you going, Dark Jim?" RJ called, his hand never leaving CJ's as the red aura that had surrounded him was pulled back into Dark's body with a sickening slapping sound. RJ seemed to flinch from beside CJ when the red aura left his side.

Dark didn't answer, simply muttering something under his breath as he slowly stepped into the hallway and slammed the door behind him.

The room was quiet for a few moments, CJ simply focusing on breathing evenly to give off the allusion that he was asleep as RJ squirmed anxiously by his side, the Jim twin tightening and untightening his grip on CJ's hand every five seconds. It felt… unnatural. The Jims were NEVER quiet when they were together, always running around with laughs on their lips and equipment in their hands as they searched for the next big story eagerly. The silence almost felt  _ suffocating _ compared to the lightheartedness of their usual interactions and stupid conversations.

"Jim? Jim, are you awake?"

With a small smile on his lips, thoughts of hospitals, cedarwood, and Darkiplier fading to the back of his mind, CJ simply squeezed RJ's hand in response, suddenly feeling safe as his twin squeezed his hand back with a hum.


	11. Chapter 11

"Soo… about what _ happened _ during the **Markiplier TV** meeting…"

"I'm assuming you're just going to apologise again?"

Letting a wide grin overtake his face, Wilford leaned back in the cushioned chair he was sitting in comfortably, crossing one leg over the other, and pointed his fourth (or fifth or sixth, but WHO was counting _ anyway _) drink at the man sitting across from him with a laugh. Thank GOD he seemed to know what the reporter was talking about, if his crossed arms and tight expression were anything to go by. "EXACTLY!" He replied cheerfully, trying to not slouch over in his seat as he slurped on the remaining contents of his drink, "You seem like you're doing FINE! Dare I say you look even BETTER then the LAST TIME I saw you!" The reporter was vaguely aware that he was shouting, but, with the music blaring all around him along with other men trying to have conversations surrounding him, he wasn't sober enough to really care that much.

For his part, Septiplier simply shook his head, uncrossing his arms, scotching up in his seat, and shouting, "I don't care if I look like a goddamn _ model _ right now! The point is is that YOU SHOT ME, you crazy sonofabitch!"

Frowning deeply at Septiplier's tone of voice, Wilford lifted his glass to his lips once more and made sure that ALL the liquid was gone before attempting to respond to the red haired man's outburst. One hand rested firmly on his own thigh as the reporter lowered the drink from his lips and slurred with a raised brow, "Now NOW. There's no need to get all SHOUTY or whatever." Wilford gestured to Septiplier's form with his free hand, watching as the latter rolled his eyes with a grunt before continuing slowly, "You seem FINE NOW, so I don't understand WHY you are making such a _ fuss _ about something as simple as a _ misunderstanding- _"

"I COULD'VE LITERALLY DIED!"

Wilford made an exasperated noise as he threw his glass against the ground as hard as he could, watching the shards fly across the floor in all directions as he responded with narrowing eyes, "Come now, it couldn't have been that BAD! I hadn't even REMEMBERED what had _ happened _ , old chap, until you had _ reminded me _just earlier today!"

Septiplier let out a bark of a laugh as he leaned back in his seat, fluffing up his red hair with one hand, and snapped mockingly, "Big surprise there. What's your issue, anyway? Do you always forget your crimes 'cause you're too crazy to accept that you're a psychopath or was I just a 'special case' that day?" The reporter chose to ignore Septiplier's comments at first, instead focusing with wide eyes on turning the glittering glass shards that now covered the living room floor into pink bubbles that floated high into the air and popped into a burst of pink and yellow sparkles. Wilford giggled maniacally, biting at his lip so hard that it bled, as an especially big bubble burst and showered him in magenta and gold confetti, the reporter raising his hands to catch the pieces of plastic as they sprinkled onto his shoulders and into his hair. "Hello?! Fucking answer me!" 

Wilford fixed Septiplier with an unamused look, the red haired man's eyes now blazing with unadulterated loathing, as he crushed a handful of glitter and confetti in his hands and clicked his tongue in disapproval. The fuming face Septiplier gave him almost made the reporter burst into hysterics. "Are you LOOKING for an _ apology _ ?" Wilford asked as he restrained the giggles crawling up his throat and brushed some of the confetti off of his hands and onto the floor. Looking thoughtful for a second, the reporter continued, resting his head on his fist from where it was positioned on the armrest, with a glint of confusion in his eyes, "Didn't I ALREADY apologise? I could've _ sworn _I did…"

"Yeah well, you were the one who came up to _ me _ to start this conversation up all over again, you murderer."

Twirling his pink mustache rhythmically as he felt his blood freeze in his veins, Wilford offered Septiplier a grin so wide that the reporter was sure that he had torn something on his face. Tiny spots of red appeared in his vision, almost like blood droplets on a window, as he looked at the red haired man dead in the eyes and slurred excitedly, "_ Murderer _ , he says! Why I NEVER! I haven't EVER _ killed _ ANYONE! Just ask Kathy, she'll tell you! She's very _ truthful _like that!"

It would be so, _ so _ easy to kill Septiplier, Wilford's red knife itching to appear in his hand from where it had been planted on the outside wall of Markiplier Manor that morning.

But, instead of allowing the small weapon to appear, Wilford glared at Septiplier for a few more seconds with his twitching smile before standing from his _ super comfy _chair and walking towards the kitchen. The reporter was decidedly DONE with THAT conversation.

_ Murderer _. Yeah right.

\---

It took close to twelve drinks before Wilford actually began to feel the effects of the alcohol he had so readily consumed for the past twelvish hours. Sitting with his legs between the slots of the banister on the second floor, Wilford leaned his sweating forehead against the wooden beam in front of him and swung his legs to the music that continued to blast down below. He had retreated all the way up the stairs because he wanted to _ get away _ from the other men that were dancing and partying far below him, his hands wrapping around two wooden beams as he sighed in discontentment.

Something felt… _ wrong _ … and Wilford wasn't entirely sure what it was. Of course, it could be the fact that the reporter didn't know literally _ anyone _ that had arrived for… for… what had they arrived here for again? Was it… for the party? Whose party was it anyway? Scrunching up his nose in annoyance, Wilford looked down at the men that all shared his face silently… why the fuck did they all share a face? Who the Hell were these men? Where had they come from? Wilford _ certainly _ hadn't brought them here! He would have remembered... probably! Anxiety began to creep into the reporter's mind as he closed his eyes and thought really, REALLY hard about what the bloody Hell was going on. Try as he might, the only thing that kept appearing in the reporter's mind was an image of a cat wearing a tutu and playing a trombone on a trampoline. Good God, he had drunk _ far _ too much.

Shaking his head sharply as he muttered, "Need to not be CARELESS with the BOOZE, friend," under his breath, Wilford giggled quietly, cursing his spotty memory by slamming his hand into the splintering pole in front of him, and opened his eyes…

_ The chandelier in front of him was ablaze with light, the twinkling diamonds mounted on the golden frame glimmering as the lamp from the middle cast its light upon them grandly. Below, many dignified looking people, dressed head to toe in black garb and silver jewelry, talked poshly to their acquaintances, Wilford being too smart to assume that the people were actually friends. His own flute of champagne dangled from his fingertips as Wilford sensed someone walk up behind him, the reporter turning his head with a smile and climbing to his feet quickly as a man in a red suit approached him. The man raised a brow when he got a look at Wilford's tan (?) attire and simply stated with a smile full of teeth, "I'm glad to see you could make it. I know that tonight was not ideal for you-" _

_ "Nonsense!" Wilford interrupted merrily, raising his glass to take a sip as he winked at the man and continued fondly, "I always have time for you and Celine, Mark." _

"Wilford!"

The reporter started and nearly fell backwards over the banister when he heard his name being called, the golden glow of the chandelier still surrounding the corners of his vision as he saw a shadowy figure stalk towards him from one of the hallways that led deeper into the house. Blinking slowly, it took Wilford a few seconds to realise that the man in front of him wasn't wearing a red suit. 

"Ah! Hello there, _ Bim _ !" Wilford greeted warmly, promptly putting out of his mind _ how _ he had gotten from sitting to standing without noticing and instead focusing all of his attention on the game show host in front of him. He took in Bim's disheveled appearance with a smirk; The game show host's usually flawless hair stringy (like someone had been running their fingers through it) and his black tie loose around his neck. His white button up was also unbuttoned at the top and gave Wilford a _ perfect _view of the bruises and hickies that laid across Bim's tanned neck and collar bones.

Seemingly taking in Wilford's tired appearance as well, the game show host walked forward a bit more, purple glitter fluttering off his body in clumps everytime he moved, and placed his hands on his hips as he asked cheekily with a sly smile, "So… how are you liking the 'meeting' so far?"

Ah ha! So BIM had set up this… meeting? Is that what he had said? "I do believe you mean PARTY, dear Bim," Wilford corrected with a chuckle as he skipped over to the game show host and, reaching out almost without thinking, began to button up the front of Bim's shirt with a concentrated look on his face. The reporter pretended not to notice how the game show host shuddered and sighed under his steady hands, the only thing giving away that Wilford had heard anything at all being the growing smirk on his face. "Why DID you throw this _ extravaganza _in the FIRST place, Bimmy?" Even now, Wilford couldn't resist the urge to ask questions. After all, he was a reporter.

Bim's eyes hardened as Wilford began to retie the tie around the game show host's neck, purple glitter falling into Wilford's eyes as Bim shifted slightly so that he wasn't staring off into the distance anymore. "Because you were a prick during the last meeting and I wanted you to get in trouble," Bim grumbled as he shoved his hands into his pockets and glared at Wilford with a menacing look. 

Ah. So _ that _ was what _ this _ was all about.

"It seems as though EVERYONE is upset with me," Wilford mused to himself as he pulled the tie probably a little too tight around Bim's abused neck and let his hands wander up to the game show host's hair, "Isn't this a bit EXTREME for a little _ payback _, Bimothy?" His words had no bite to them, though Bim looked as though he had been slapped across the face.

Huffing in annoyance, the game show host narrowed his eyes and practically spat into the reporter's face, "I _ helped you _ write **Markiplier TV** ! You _ promised _ I would be able to be a part of **Disk of Riches** , but, instead, you went _ behind my back _ and filmed that segment of the show without me knowing!" Wilford made a noise of acknowledgement before pulling sharply on Bim's disheveled hair, the game show host hissing in pain (maybe?) as his hands came out of his pockets and gripped onto Wilford's pink suspenders.

The reporter jumped in surprise, but continued to fix Bim's hair because Wilford Warfstache did not HALF ASS anything... "Well, Bimmy," Wilford slurred, his eyes flickering downwards as he heard a rumbling noise come from Bim's stomach, "You could've just TOLD ME how you FELT, ya know! Though, I do have to say, this party is positively SMASHING overall! Could use better _ alcohol _, but…" The reporter's sentence pittered off as he chuckled and shrugged comically, the game show host raising a brow before removing one of his hands from Wilford's suspenders, ducking his head, and pushing up his glasses as they slipped down his nose.

That's when Wilford stopped breathing for a moment.

_ "Are you sure about this? I don't want to hurt you by accident-" _

_ "Oh for goodness sake, I'm not made out of _ glass _ , Wilford. Just come here and kiss me." _

_ The man ducked his head, suddenly shy compared to his bold words, as he wound his arms around Wilford's neck, raising his head to slowly kiss his way down Wilford's jaw as the reporter's arms encircled the man's thin waist. He pulled at the pristine suit that the man had chosen for the special occasion, the white bowtie around the man's neck enticing Wilford greatly, and slowly slid the black jacket off the man's shoulders, moaning quietly as his lips finally connected with those of Damien's- _

Damien.

Damien.

DAMIEN.

And, almost without thinking, Wilford leaned forward and connected his lips with Bim Trimmer's, the game show host momentarily freezing up, his hands clutching the reporter's suspenders in a near death like grip, before returning the kiss eagerly. It wasn't, by any means, a pretty kiss; Saliva dripped from their mouths and their teeth clacked together as Wilford removed one hand from Bim's hair and grabbed at the game show host's ass, moving one of his legs between Bim's thighs to give the game show host something to grind down upon. It wasn't until Bim bit down hard onto Wilford's bottom lip, the game show host keening loudly and raking his hands up and down Wilford's back, did the reporter realise that he wasn't actually kissing _ Damien… _

And that thought left him cold all over. 

Pulling away slightly, Bim chasing his lips with his teeth, Wilford looked at the game show host with glazed eyes, a worm of guilt slowly forming in his gut as Bim gasped heavily in his ear. "I'm- I'm still pissed at you, you know," Bim moaned out as he latched onto Wilford's throat, moving one of his hands from Wilford's back to the reporter's crotch and giving him a sharp squeeze. The booming music below along with the lessening chatter of all the guests faded to the background as Wilford, the hand from Bim's hair journeying to the game show host's face, closed his eyes and, simultaneously, closed off any and all guilt starting to circle around his heart. Why should HE feel guilty, after all? He didn't even BLOODY KNOW who Damien WAS!

Wilford hissed when Bim clamped down sharply on his throat, the reporter pushing the game show host backwards before reconnecting their lips in a filthy kiss that left both men groaning in delight. Bim rolled his hips forward and slowly ground down on Wilford's thigh with a shaky moan, the reporter himself beginning to reach for the buttons he had so carefully re buttoned on Bim's shirt only a few minutes prior. "I think we should find somewhere more _ comfortable _before we continue," Wilford hummed wickedly as he pulled sharply on Bim's tie instead of the buttons and caused the game show host to pull back from the reporter's mouth and nod with another rumble from his stomach.

It took awhile to find a room that wasn't already occupied with either one of the guests or with so much trash that it would have been impossible to navigate in the dark. But finally, an office was found on the far side of the second floor, Wilford and Bim slipping in as quietly as they could while making out and whispering dirty things to each other. It was almost nostalgic for Wilford, in a weird way that he couldn't place. It didn't take long for Bim to crawl onto a barren desk that lay in the back of the office, Wilford crawling right on top of him with a smirk before securely locking their lips together once more. Reaching downwards, the reporter traced the outline of the zipper of Bim's dress pants, the game show host arching off the table with a gasp and biting on Wilford's lip hard enough to make him bleed. The reporter grinned as he rubbed the heel of his hand over the bulge growing in Bim's pants, his own appendage growing increasingly uncomfortable the longer he performed his ministrations on Bim. 

"Just~ _ Christ agh~ _ just _ fucking get on _with it," Bim growled, pulling away from Wilford's mouth long enough to slip the reporter's pink suspenders off his shoulders and fiddle with the buttons of his yellow shirt enough to expose Wilford's chest. The reporter, trying to not get lost in the moment, quickly zipped down Bim's pants and yanked them to his knees. He cursed when he felt Bim latch onto one of his nipples, bowing his head as he moaned before looking at the pretty picture the game show host was painting below him.

Bim pulled off the puckered nub with a satisfying pop before flashing Wilford one of his dazzling smiles and moving silently on to the other nipple, Wilford hurriedly reaching for the zipper of his own pants. He practically ripped his pants as he pulled the zipper down, allowing both his boxers and pants to slip down his body at the same time. His hand then returned to Bim's flexing stomach as he slowly maneuvered it under the waistband of the game show host's underwear, pulling the cloth off of his prize with a hum. "This'll be _ fun _," Wilford slurred as he wrapped one hand around Bim's dick and twisted upwards, the game show host pausing from biting at Wilford's collar to writhe and moan beneath the reporter and claw at his back.

Seeing an opportunity fall before him, Wilford, quirking a playful brow at the panting, lust eyed Bim Trimmer, leant downwards and, blowing a few times at the head to cause the game show host to shiver with pleasure, Wilford securely wrapped his lips around Bim's dick.

So wrapped up in each other, with Bim throwing his head back as filthy words fell from his lips and Wilford put his sinful mouth to good use for once, that neither of the men noticed the door to the office open for a moment and then promptly close with a click of the lock. Nor did they hear angered footsteps stomp their way back down the hall or how the music shut off all at once because of a shout from a two-toned entity.

  
No, they didn't notice and it was probably safest for the both of them that it _ remained _ that way.


	12. Chapter 12

" ** _I fucking told you this would happen._ ** "

" **Oh enough already! It's not like I can predict the future, Celine!** "

" ** _It was YOUR EMOTIONS, Damien, that allowed this to happen in the first place! I told you I wanted to cast him back out on his ass the moment he popped into the Manor, but no!_ ** "

" **If you had REALLY wanted him gone, you would've thrown him out since I wouldn't have be able to damn well stop you even if I tried! Don't you deny that you missed him too!** "

" ** _God, you are FAR too forgiving for our own good, little brother. It's nauseating to think that you still harbor feelings for that adulterer._ ** "

" **And YOU are far too quick to JUDGE, dear sister. Maybe all these years has changed him for the better-** "

"**_Did you see_** **_what I just saw or are you just naive and foolish? Wilford is the same as he's always been. Get your head out of your ass, for god's sake!_**"

" **If you didn't care, you wouldn't be upset right now and you know it. Stop pretending to be heartless for one goddamn second and actually ** ** _listen _ ** **to what I have to say. You can't be in control all the bloody time.** "

" ** _I'll stop being careful when you stop putting us in danger, Damien._ ** "

Sighing softly, Dark leaned against the railing that overlooked the utterly  _ destroyed _ lobby far down below, too drained to even interject as the two souls inside his mind continued to argue and insult each other with a bitter vigor. The demon could feel his eyelids growing heavy as he held onto the banister so hard that the already decaying wood cracked under his fingers. It wasn't often that Celine and Damien argued, but, when they did, it was uncomfortable, borderline painful, for all three of the entities, especially when Dark entered into the debates and voiced his own, skewed opinion on whatever the siblings were fighting about.

Grinding his teeth together as he snapped his neck back into place with a loud crack, Dark tried not to look at all the extra trash that was laying around the Manor and, instead, released his hold on the banister shakily, taking a step backwards as the DA's body shook with terror. Memories of falling and bleeding and dying rushed to the forefront of the demon's mind as Dark walked over to the spiraling staircase and started to descend, the thoughts being easily suppressed with magic as the demon focused simply on finding somewhere to sleep in relative comfort on the first floor. 

There was no way in  _ Hell _ he was going anywhere near his office for the remainder of the night.

Crossing his hands behind his back, Dark stepped fluidly around all the broken glass and empty plastic cups that littered the tiled floor, pointedly ignoring the splintered mirror now laying shattered across the tiled floor directly to his left with a tight frown as he turned down the right hallway towards the dining room silently. The guests that Bim (the name made Dark growl under his breath) had invited to Markiplier Manor had scampered off to their own rooms for the night after Dark had returned home, so the demon wasn't too concerned about hurting anyone when he kicked a glass bottle that was laying on the ground as hard as he could into the rotting wall of the hallway. The green glass shattered into a million brilliant pieces on impact, but it seemed as though Dark didn't even notice. He just continued to stalk down the hallway and into the dining room, his dark eyes roaming over the cushioned dining chairs as silent approval danced across his stone cold expression for a fleeting second before disappearing into nothing once more.

Celine and Damien, seemingly ignoring Dark's mild temper tantrum as he walked slowly over to the closest chair and sank slowly into the velvet cushion with a grimace and a grunt of pain, continued to argue angrily as the demon closed his soulless (ha, ha, irony) eyes with a sigh and relaxed into his seat.

" **-more, it doesn't matter!** "

" ** _Of COURSE it matters! He was literally fucking Bim Trimmer in MARK'S office on MARK'S desk! We don't want to get mixed up in all of that-_ ** "

" **-HA! You're scared!"**

" ** _-YOU, plain and simply, need to school your emotions to something more appropriate! I swear to God, if you or Wilford try _ ** **anything** ** _ at all, I will snap his motherfucking neck like a toothpick and leave him in the woods to rot!_ ** "

" **My goodness. Speak for yourself, Celine. I happen to be rather good at schooling my emotions, thank you very much.** "

" ** _Uh huh. Says the man that opens his legs to any male that so much as says a flowery word in his direction._ ** "

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the ornamentally carved wooden dining table, Dark placed his head in his hands with an angry huff, pitching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as moonlight flowed through a nearby window and showered down upon the shadowy, concentrated figure. A familiar tingling feeling appeared at the base of his snapped spine and Dark smiled. His ringing, a sound that the demon had reluctantly grown used to after years of dispising the sound, grew to a deafening volume as grey magic began to curl around his wrists and twist up his neck, pulling the demon further and further out of this reality and deeper and deeper into the cold wilderness that was the Void.

In less then thirty seconds, all that remained of Darkiplier was the fading sound of the demon's ringing and a few glowing remnants of his aura, the blue and red alternating like a beacon, that glowed mysteriously out from the cracked pieces of the mirror in the lobby.

And still, even as the icy tundra of their prison crashed down upon the tormented souls, Celine and Damien continued to bicker with a fever that made the demon roll his eyes in disgust. 

" **Still can't share your plaything, can you? It seems as though some things never change…** "


	13. Bonus Chapter: Opinion Minion

"The fuck are you supposed to be? A gay jar of peanut butter?" The man with the large smattering of peanut butter across his cheeks frowned slightly and leaned away from the minion, little flickers of motion visible under his skin tight black shirt that the minion chalked up to an illusion of the light. Opinion simply raised a brow and crossed his arms as he continued harshly, "Seriously. You look like something I would've shit out after eating Thai food."

Sucking in a breath of air, the peanut butter man grabbed his cape with his free hand and tucked it tighter around himself before muttering with a piercing look, "Well, at least I don't look like a fire truck." He nodded his head at Opinion's red shirt with a knitted brow and immediately flinched backwards when the minion simply snorted and flipped the man off. Opinion uncrossed his arms and made sure that the peanut butter man could read the words  **Opinion Minion** printed proudly on his chest, his hands resting on his hips as the man in front of him sputtered, "I uh- Why-why are you here?"

Opinion gave the man a are-you-fucking-kidding-me? look before he stomped forward and shoved the peanut butter man out of the way, feeling several globs of the sticky substance fall onto his arm with displeasure. His eyes surveyed the decrepit entry hall, his expectations sinking lower and lower the longer he stared at the shattered paintings and broken artifacts, before he turned back to the quaking man and snapped, "I'm fucking here because that stupid sparkly prick texted me this address and told me if I didn't go there, he'd break all my bones in more ways then I could count on two hands."

Closing the door gently behind him, Opinion watched as the peanut butter man walked almost silently away from the door and sat on a staircase that was directly to the right of the door. The man's eyes were drooping as if he were fighting sleep, the squirming under his shirt beginning anew in an almost crazed frenzy as he rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. "Whatever is going on with your shirt, I don't want any part of it," Opinion stated crossily as he kicked a shard of glass that had been on the ground at the man, the glass landing satisfyingly in the man's left arm. 

The peanut butter man's eyes shot open as he whimpered in pain and swiped the glass piece out of his arm, blood trailing down his arm and dripping onto the floor in a steady pool as he leveled the minion with an upset look on his face. Opinion simply shrugged and bit at his thumbnail, his eyes traveling around the room and resting on the dark hallway across from him as he commented, "That's what you get for dressing in drag, buddy boy."

"Personally, I think he looks RATHER handsome!"

Never in his whole life did Opinion scream as loudly as he did when  _ Wilford Warfstache _ popped into existence directly in front of him, the minion jumping nearly ten feet into the air as the reporter widened his eyes and took a step backwards and out of Opinion's personal space. "What the  _ shit!? _ " Opinion shrieked once he was standing on wooden paneling again, his breathing shaking in an annoying way as he pointed a finger in Wilford's face and shrieked again, "What the  _ shit!? _ "

Blinking slowly, Wilford opened his mouth as if he were going to say something to the angered minion in front him before seemingly deciding against it and snapping his mouth closed with a click. An odd tune rumbled in the back of the deranged man's throat as he glanced around Opinion and, snapping at his suspenders rhythmically, said to the peanut butter man cheerfully, "Darky Dark took the twins to the HOSPITAL, the poor dears. It SEEMS that the GOOD doctor was not quick enough for that demon's dwindling patience!"

The man simply nodded, his eyes still firmly shut, as a squirrel (of all things) climbed out of the collar of his black shirt and chattered something low in his ear. Opinion, willing himself to stop shaking like a little bitch, narrowed his eyes and poked his finger into the reporter's chest roughly to grab the pink haired man's attention. Wilford stopped humming at the touch and gave Opinion's poking finger a curious look as the minion snarled, "I don't know why you fucking called me here today, Warfstache, since, ya know, I actually have shit to do concerning taking over the world."

Wilford, much to Opinion's frustration, chuckled lightly and grabbed the minion's hand, removing it from his chest and almost throwing it back at Opinion before stating with glee, "I thought that part was  _ obvious _ ! We're having a MEETING! TODAY! RIGHT NOW!" Wilford patted Opinion's arm in a friendly sort of gesture before walking around him and chortling as he faced the man with the peanut butter and squirrel, "I thought KING would have told you!"

"Kinda hard to do that when you're being assaulted," the man, King, replied bitterly, him and his squirrel shooting Opinion nasty looks they slowly stood up from the stair steps.

The minion took a step forward, his hands bunching into fists, as he replied through gritted teeth, "Maybe you shouldn't be such a pussy, though I'm not surprised considering you rule over  _ fucking squirrels _ ." 

The reporter made a shushing noise with a finger over his mouth, glancing between the two glaring entities before slowly lowering his finger and smiling widely. "THERE WE GO children!" He slurred happily, his brown eyes staring momentarily at a splintered mirror that lay on the ground a few feet away from the staircase with a bewildered expression before finishing with a flourish, "It's not that hard to GET ALONG, is it?!"

And with that, Opinion realised just how badly he wanted to go home and bash his brains in with an electric toothbrush.


	14. Bonus Chapter: Elder Jeremiah

Elder Jeremiah smiled contently as he hopped off his bicycle and leaned it carefully against the stones that made up the mansion walls, tucking his helmet carefully under his arm as he marched towards the front door. Just by looking at the outside of the house, he could tell that whomever lived here was  _ very _ wealthy and probably had lots of interesting contraptions tucked away inside their gorgeous mansion. Maybe they had a faded suit of armor or a painting as valuable as the Mona Lisa… or a double decker flat screen TV with surround sound and speakers that could literally blast your ears out, which is what Jeremiah  _ really  _ wanted. But beggars can't be choosers and plus, he was on his mission by himself today and probably couldn't get away with stealing anything  _ too  _ big.

Checking to make sure that he had the Book in hand (he had forgotten it one time like an idiot and almost blew the entire operation), Jeremiah breathed in deeply and plastered the widest smile he could across his face as he reached forward to knock on the front door. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see something glinting lazily in the late morning sunshine, the redness of whatever it was prompting Jeremiah to turn and look at it. 

To his surprise, a rather intricate looking knife was stuck in between two of the stones that made up the front of the house. Jeremiah made a noise of surprise and, completely ignoring the door, reached out a hand to give the knife a hard tug. When the knife didn't give on his first pull, Jeremiah placed both the Book of Mormon and his bicycle helmet onto the ground and wrapped both hands around the handle with a determined look on his face. If he could get this knife out of the wall, he wouldn't even need to go inside the house! This would probably cost at least as much as a double decker flat screen just because of how antique and well cared for it was!

Trying to make as little noise as possible, Jeremiah pulled on the knife with all his strength, even propping his foot against the wall to get some leverage, and still, the knife didn't even shake in protest. "Wow," Jeremiah muttered as he loosened his grip on the knife and placed his foot back on the ground, bending over to pick up his book and helmet and resume his place in front of the ornamental front door. Obviously that knife wasn't going anywhere.

Straightening his tie, Jeremiah placed another smile on his face and knocked cheerfully on the front door, fully expecting to see either one of two things: one. This was the house of a nice little old lady with six kids and seventy five grandchildren that probably invite him inside and make him cookies... Or two. This was indeed the house Bim had texted the group chat about and the address that Jeremiah had  _ thought _ was the manor is probably calling the police right now about a breaking and entering that had occured earlier that morning. 

What he hadn't been expecting was for the door to swing open and a man in a red shirt falling unceremoniously to the ground at his feet, another man with a pink mustache standing above him with a satisfied smirk on his face. "See! WHAT did I JUST tell you!?" The man, Jeremiah instantly recognized as Wilford Warfstache with a step backwards, cackled as he reached a hand down and helped the man who had just fallen stand back up with a bemused look. Clapping the man on the shoulder, to which the man simply glared, Wilford smiled and said excitedly, "IF someone pushes you backwards, your momentum will always  _ pull  _ you backwards! It's simple SCIENCE, my good man!"

"Science doesn't fucking exist," The man retorted before shoving his way back inside the house, Jeremiah trying to keep a neutral expression on his face as he waited for the reporter to notice him.

He didn't have to wait long, Wilford's sneaky expression turning to Jeremiah as a gleam of mischief lurked in his eyes. The elder smiled and began his speech, "Hello! My name is Elder Jeremiah of the Church of Jesus Christ and Latterday Saints-"

"Did you have a hard time trying to get that knife out of the wall?" 

Jeremiah froze, his speech completely fizzling up in his mind as panic sank deep into his stomach like a stone. How did he  _ know _ ? Were there cameras that Jeremiah just didn't see when he had biked around the house twice looking for open windows and easy escape routes? "Uh-" Jeremiah stuttered, gripping at his book tighter as he tried to remember how far away he had placed his bike from the door, "...nooooo? I didn't touch that knife, no siree. I just came here to attend this meeting and spread the word of the Lord and that's it. Trust me."

Wilford raised a brow and smirked, leaning against the door before slapping Jeremiah's arm good naturedly and saying with a twinkle in his eye, "Oh yes. The GOOD LORD and all of that mumble jumble. Come right IN, Elder Jeremiah of the Church of Jesus Christ and Latterday Saints!" Not sure whether to be offended or impressed by Wilford's remembrance of his full title, Jeremiah let himself be tugged inside the house. His eyes widened at the mess that was just encompassed everything and swore under his breath. Guess he wasn't getting that double decker flat screen tv with surround sound and speakers that could blast your ears out anytime soon.


	15. Bonus Chapter: Dadiplier and Justin

"Can I knock?" 

Dadiplier gave his son a sideways look, clearing his throat once before smoothing down the front of his blue sweater with a hand and saying softly, "Go right ahead, buddy. Nice and gentle." Watching as his son leaned precariously forward, gripping onto the handlebars of Justin's wheelchair tightly, Dadiplier frowned and amended his previous statement by saying, "On second thought, maybe I should knock. I don't want you getting hurt because you fell out of your chair."  _ Again _ .

Justin twisted in his seat and gave his father an angry look, his hand raised over the door as if daring Dadiplier to try and stop him from knocking. " _ Dad! _ " He snapped, his other hand reaching behind him to slap one of Dadiplier's hands off of his wheelchair's handles, "I'm not a little kid anymore! You don't need to do  _ everything  _ for me!" 

Sighing deeply, Dadiplier tried really hard to look at his son's hopeful little face and not at his missing leg, his heart sinking as guilt crashed down onto his ribs like waves hitting a stormy shore. It was, after all,  _ his fault _ that Justin was in a wheelchair in the first place, that fateful day feeling like it was only yesterday where, in fact, it had been close to two years ago. The father wasn't sure he would  _ ever  _ be able to forgive himself, even though Justin seemed to have forgotten all about the incident… or maybe he just blocked it out of his memory due to the trauma.

Smiling softly, Dadiplier nodded his head towards the door, watching carefully as Justin grinned his little kid grin and knocked five times on the front door.

Wack, wack, wack, wack, wack!

"What kind of meeting do you think this is, Dad?" Justin asked curiously, leaning back in his chair as his father backed him away from the entrance slightly. He looked over his shoulder and met Dadiplier's eyes, the elder chuckling and shaking his head as he looked at the outside of the manor. It really was a nice looking house, much better looking then the pair's three room apartment with no shower and no dish washer.

Whistling lowly as his eyes fell on a broken window way up on the third floor, Dadiplier turned back to his son and carefully replied, "If I'm being honest, I don't really know. Something to do with taking over the world or saving the world or whatever." He ruffled Justin's hair with his right hand, his child quickly fixing his blond locks with a hiss of displeasure, and laughed lightly at his son's antics. For a moment, the guilt that was trapped tightly in his chest expanded and escaped his body, leaving Dadiplier feeling high on Justin's happiness. But then, the guilt came back and he fell back to Earth as the sick realisation that HE was a terrible father settled over him once more.

Licking his lips and breathing in deeply, Dadiplier watched as the door in front of them swung open with a slam, Justin jumping in fear from his seat with a whimper. "You alright?" The father asked anxiously, placing a hand on his son's shoulder as he leaned forward and looked at Justin's face for any signs of distress. 

  
"Yeah, Dad," Justin replied with confidence, his blue eyes already returning to the actually quite frightening door that stood to attention in front of the duo with a grin, "Come on! We have to go save the world!" Pointing towards the door, Justin made a noise like Tarzan and tried to propel himself forward by scooching forward on his seat super fast. Dadiplier laughed nervously, his eyes never leaving the pitch black doorway in front of them, and walked forward, telling himself over and over again in his mind that there were no monsters and no  _ tigers _ hiding just on the other side of the creepy threshold.


	16. Bonus Chapter: Brian

For the fifteenth time that day (yes, he had been keeping track), the hat that Brian had picked out specifically for this meeting, a wide brimmed black top hat with an orange velvet ribbon tied around the middle, blew off his head and landed on the dirty ground in the middle of the long, cobblestoned driveway. Growling in frustration, Brian marched over to his hat and, brushing off the mud and cement dust that had stuck to it, placed it back onto his head, careful not to mess with his combed back hair while continuing up the drive at a leisurely pace. He was in no real rush to reach the manor on time; Instead, he was planning on making a grand entrance, just like the crime bosses in  **Gotham** did. That was the show he was currently  _ obsessed _ with, spending hours and hours of his days watching the violent tv show and pouring over ideas for his latest fan fiction epic composed into twenty five parts (he had brought his idea book along with him, tucked neatly under his arm, just in case he thought of any more ideas on his hike to the manor).

Earlier that day, Brian had decided that he was going to actually  _ walk  _ the fifteen miles (ha ha, irony) to this  _ Markiplier Manor _ , which the man had expected to be nothing more then a regular old house because  _ come on _ . Big, old houses that really weren't that grand or special were often misleadingly called manors because writers got too lazy to think of anything else to call them ( **American Horror Story** had taught him that). But, nonetheless, it only took Brian about two minutes of walking slowly to realise that he had made a HUGE mistake in eating that triple cheese buffalo chicken pizza that morning. And now, seeing the very impressive and manor-like mansion in the distance, Brian was very thankful for the fact that the chances of this Markiplier having more then one toilet in the house were very high because the shit storm that he was gonna probably make would get him kicked out of the manor in less then one second if there was only one bathroom.

"Alright, almost there," he muttered consolingly to himself, his peaceful walk starting to turn into a light jog the closer he got to the manor. A thin line of sweat gleamed from his forehead as the increasingly warm sunshine beat down on his black trenchcoat and black combat boots, the man silently regretting his choice of clothing as the feeling of being boiled alive overtook him. "Almost there, almost there, almost there-" 

The shade of the overhang that stood over the ornamentally carved front door provided him some relief from the scorching heat, but still did little to relieve the stress stirring low in his gut. Not only did he have to piss and shit  _ really, really _ bad, he also had the distinct itching feeling that occured at the base of his neck whenever something very important was about to happen. It was like a sixth sense in a way, telling him something important that he honestly wouldn't remember if he didn't have what he considered to be his "God Sent magical power". Gasping lightly to himself, Brian grasped tightly at the black door knob and growled in pain as the black metal burned his hand angrily.  **Gotham ** was about to air a brand new season on Netflix, Brian could just  _ feel it _ .

He didn't even bother knocking as he ripped open the door and stepped inside the significantly cooler manor, ignoring the shouting match his bladder was having with his brain as he scanned all the other entities that were standing in the room in front of him. "Is there a tv I can use?" Brian asked breathlessly, trying to remember what had happened on the last season he had watched while clutching at his notebook with both hands so that they wouldn't shake too much. Jesus, withdrawal was a  _ bitch _ .

"Nope." Brian shifted his gaze to a man in a white button up who was sitting on an easily accessible grand staircase with a leather bound book on his lap. Brian made a distressed noise, his hands tightening around his notebook, as the man continued with his own disappointed look, "I already checked. There's nothing but an old hunk of junk that looks like it could be ten gazillion years old."

"....great. I guess I'll just die not knowing what happened on the final season then." Brian meant that to be a joke, but the way he said it made it sound more like a promise. He wanted to correct himself, but his bladder chose that moment to contract and soon he was running off in a random direction in search of a nearby bathroom, his boots echoing louder and louder the farther and farther he got from the rest of the entities.


	17. Bonus Chapter: The Silver Shepherd

Given the fact that at the exact moment Silver's mind began racing a million miles a minute and his phone almost called his ex because the superhero had been fiddling with the device all day long, Silver almost didn't want to knock on the front door. In reality, he didn't really want to do anything except go home to his apartment, eat a shit ton of strawberry ice, and watch **Friends** on repeat for the rest of the day. But, of course, Bim had texted the group chat and said that everyone _ had _ to go to the meeting, so here Silver was in front of Dark's meeting place with a tired expression and with tear and beer stains on his costume. 

He'd rather be anywhere else right now, most preferably in Roxanne's arms, but that was never going to happen again so there really was no point in thinking about it. And yet… Silver really fucking missed her! He didn't even know what he did wrong; she had just sent him a text confirming one of his greatest fears with no explanation once or ever. Was it another man like before, probably! But still! Silver thought Roxanne had changed!

Silver looked at the ceiling of the overhang and tried to not start crying again, his shaky breathing giving him the hiccups as he slowly worked up the nerve to knock on the door. He had met a few of the other entities in the past, especially during the last meeting he had attended, but there were going to be lots and LOTS of them in there and at last one of them was bound to notice how upset the superhero was. A loud crashing sound from within the front door jolted Silver from his thoughts, the superhero listening in silent concern as someone swore loudly inside and shouted, "I swear to God, I'm going to rip that pink mustache right off your face if you push me one more goddamn time!"

"You just said you believe the Earth is FLAT! By God man, I was TRYING to knock some SENSE into you!"

"You're a fucking psychopath!"

"At least _ I KNOW _the world isn't FLAT!"

Silver blinked several times, for the first time in a few days forgetting what Roxanne had said about him to the media, and tried to put on a brave face as he opened the front door with a flourish. He placed his hands on his hips and examined the scene in front of him, slowly becoming less and less confident the longer he looked. He didn't even recognize half these people, even though in some weird way he kinda looked like all of them a little bit, and the one person he kinda, sorta knew was waving a gun in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. Correction, he knew two people; he recognized King from where he was sitting at the top of stairs, hidden away and lowly talking (or chattering?) with his squirrels.

A new wave of anxiety washed over Silver's body and it took all of the superhero's self control to literally keep his feet planted on the ground. Sometimes he hovered when he felt self conscious, but it was embarrassing and honestly Silver needed something good going on in his life right now. So instead, Silver coughed, adjusted his position, and waited for someone to notice him. "Wow! A superhero!" A voice said to his left, the superhero turning dramatically to see a little boy in a wheelchair staring at him with excitement. 

His father, Silver assumed, had bent down next to the wheelchair so that he was at the same height as his kid while explaining calmly, "That's the Silver Shepherd. He must be here for the meeting as well. Isn't that cool, bud?"

Nodding enthusiastically, the kid wheeled forward and the father stood up, the blond boy reaching out a hand to shake Silver's with the biggest grin across his face. "You saved me from that tiger!" The boy explained excitedly, Silver scrunching up his face as he tried to remember and finally catching the memory with a grimace. That crime hadn't been a pretty one and the boy had been mauled horribly. He and Ibis had been talking about it for weeks after it had happened just because it had been so awful.

Taking the boy's hand in his, Silver smiled and said with as much fake enthusiasm as he could muster, "Of course! Everyone is protected under the watchful eye of the Silver Shepherd and his trusty sidekick Ibis!" He shook the boy's hand, which made the child giggle in delight, and whipped a sticker out from under his cape that read the words **I'm a friend of the Silver Shepherd, suckers!** Gasping happily, Silver gave the boy the sticker and patted him once on the shoulder with a small smile. Well, at least he managed to make someone's day… Jesus, he missed Roxanne.

Before he could sink back into his melancholy thoughts, his mind already beginning to spiral out of control once again, another loud crash caught his attention from across the room. A table was now standing in the middle of the entrance hall, surrounded by pink bubbles and the faint air of magic, and sitting on top with another bottle of liquor in hand was the famed Wilford Warfstache himself. The reporter slid off of the table and onto the ground quickly, backing away from the table with a hum before pulling a face and muttering, "Nope, nada, no sir. This is NOT the right place for this table," under his breath. His brown eyes jumped from the table to the superhero, a nervous feeling beginning to grow in Silver's chest, and the reporter smiled and exclaimed, "Silver, my good man!" He looked like he had something else to say, but instead he just narrowed his eyes and gave Silver's silver suit the once over. Silver silently pleaded with the reporter to not say anything about how he looked, but, alas, he was talking about Wilford here, the one man who couldn't keep his mouth shut even if his life depended on it. 

Instead of the condescending comment Silver had been expecting, Wilford simply widened his eyes and, quite unexpectedly, the bottle of champagne he had left on the table poofed into his hand with a swirl of rainbow bubbles. Holding the bottle by the neck, Wilford tossed it gently to Silver, which the superhero caught easily, and said with a tease, "YOU look like a man that could USE a drink."


	18. Bonus Chapter: Captain Falcon

The thing is… doors are just fucking overrated.

"FALCON PUNCH!"

The door exploded easily under Captain Falcon's hand, the wooden paneling flying in all directions as the racer stepped calmly through the wreckage and flashed everyone in the foyer a grin. Raising his hand in greeting, Falcon exclaimed charismatically, "HELLO! MY NAME IS CAPTAIN FALCON!" He paused and lowered his hand, trying to keep his smile plastered on even though most of the occupants in the front hall were giving him either blank or death stares. He contemplated about whether or not he should continue his speech, and therefore contemplated about if he actually wanted to possibly get decked in the face, but his enthusiasm to make a good first impression won him over and he continued brightly, "I'M GOING TO ASSUME I'M IN THE RIGHT PLACE SINCE WE ALL LOOK THE SAME! HOW IS EVERYONE, BY THE WAY BECAUSE I CAN TELL YOU RIGHT NOW THAT I'M DOING GREAT!"

"I was doing okay until you busted the damn door down, you f-"

"Whoa there, fire truck." Falcon lowered his arm, for it was starting to get sore, and placed his hands on his hips, watching as a man in a white button up held up his hand to stop another man across the room from finishing his apparently vulgar sentence. "You need to watch your language around the child, Opinion. We don't want him to start spouting obscenities or," the white buttoned man shuddered, "start using the good Lord's name in vain!"

Falcon snorted loudly through his nose, raising a gloved hand to cover his smirk as White Button Up gave him a scowl and crossed his arms. Everyone else in the room, even Opinion, turned to look at the racer as he tried desperately to stay calm after observing what he thought to be one of the funniest things he had seen in a while. Even watching that kitten take a header with a sardine that was bigger than its  _ head _ just two weeks ago took second place to the religious bullshit he had just heard! Clearing his throat once, Falcon wiped his smile off his face with some effort and returned his hand to his hip with a cough. "I UM… YOU WERE BEING SERIOUS," the racer stated lamely, pursing his lips as all the other entities in the room, except White Button up, resumed talking about whatever they had been talking about before he had arrived. One entity dressed head to toe in white didn't even acknowledge Falcon's arrival and slip up at all; he just continued to drink heavily from the bottle of champagne clenched tightly in his fist.

White Button Up, though his face still resembled an angry wasp's, began to walk slowly up to the racer, Falcon watching with curious eyes and a cautious stance. If these choir boy  _ dared  _ to try to take a swing on  _ the _ Captain Falcon, he'd have his teeth knocked inwards so fast they'd come shooting out of the back of his head. Managing a weak smile as White Button Up stopped in front of him, Falcon held out a hand in greeting which White Button Up took immediately. "Elder Jeremiah of the Church of Jesus Christ and Latterday Saints," White Button Up,  _ Jeremiah _ , said gingerly as he shook Falcon's hand warmly and then dropped the hand like it burned him. 

Trying not to make an amused face, Falcon nodded his head and said brightly, "AH. WHAT AN UNUSUAL NAME FOR THIS DAY AND AGE." He grimaced as he realized that that comment had  _ really _ sounded better inside his head. As he gazed at Jeremiah's peeved face, Falcon laughed uncomfortably and punched the elder in the shoulder in a friendly manner to try to lighten the mood a little. "I MEAN THAT IN THE BEST WAY, OF COURSE," he amended, clicking his tongue as he smiled and stated, "JEREMIAH IS A GREAT NAME FOR SOMEONE OVER A THOUSAND YEARS OLD."

Smiling thinly, Jeremiah clasped his hands in front of him and looked over Falcon's shoulder, his eyes growing impossibly wide before he asked almost breathlessly, "Is that YOUR car?"

Falcon smirked with pride, placing his hands on his hips once and puffing out his chest as he pivoted on his heel to look at the blue race car hovering precariously above the stone driveway. He was super proud of that car, always making sure that she (That's right. She's a SHE.) was properly painted everytime he got into a car accident and always got worn parts replaced with new shiny versions that made her go even  _ faster! _ The racer had been fixing her up after a nasty wreck the night prior when he had received the group text earlier that morning and he, of course, still had some work to do with her because he had rushed out the door. "YES. YES SHE IS," Falcon said confidently, his eyes sparkling as he took in the work he had done that morning, "ISN'T SHE AMAZING?"

"Oh yes," Falcon heard Jeremiah say sarcastically over his shoulder, the racer choosing to ignore the condescending tone in the elder's face as he looked at his car dreamily. A shuffling noise could be heard over his shoulder and for a split second of pure delight, Falcon thought that Jeremiah had walked away to leave him in peace. "Is it supposed to tilt like that?"

The racer frowned, briefly glancing over his shoulder to flash Jeremiah a confused look before returning his attention to his car with a sigh. His frown deepened the longer he looked at his race car's hovering frame. Sure he had parked a  _ little  _ close to the edge of the driveway and sure there were ditches on the sides of the driveway, but there was no way that his race car could fall into those ditches because she was literally hoverin-

A memory of a track he had raced on, one filled with narrow cliffs and near death turns, entered his mind and he turned pale. His car gave another lurch to the side. "OH SHI-!" Falcon didn't even finish his sentence before he was running at full speed towards his car, his hand reaching into his leather jacket to fish out the keys he had placed into one of the pockets when he had first arrived. Laughter sailed from the elder's lips only to be immediately followed by the sudden near deafening music echoing from inside the house.

Falcon cursed under his breath as he reached his car and pulled on the closest wing with all his might so the race car would turn away from the ditch. As he pulled, his muscles straining under his jacket, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Jeremiah walked back into the house with a smug smile on his face. Huffing unhappily, Falcon simply shrugged his shoulders in annoyance and continued to pull.

Some first impression he made, huh?


	19. Bonus Chapter: Wiggle!Mark (Evan)

"See! This is exactly what I've been talking about!"

"I think you might be overreacting just a little bit."

Evan waved his hands dramatically into the face of the entity he was talking to, his face scrunching up in distaste as music blared out the (broken?) door of the manor and into the driveway. Even though he was standing a good thirty feet away from the door, Evan could still hear the stupid music ringing evily in his ears. "The music kids are listening to these days," he muttered in despair, shaking his head in disappointment as he watched shadowy figures pass in front of the darkened doorway, "It shouldn't even be classified as music! It's just a bunch of screaming, swearing, and sex innuendos!"

Hugging his torso tightly with one arm, Evan adjusted the collar of his purple sweater with his other hand as he watched Brian sip uneasily at his glass of champagne. Once he had taken a fairly long drink from his cup, Brian lowered his glass from his lips and replied tiredly with a gleam of impatience in his eyes, "Times change. Entertainment doesn't stay the same forever. I'm sure that the music industry will pick up some new fad in the next decade or so and everything will change again, but for now… just enjoy Lady Gaga, alright?"

Evan scoffed and snapped sourly, "Easy for you to say! You were never world famous! You never went on tours and visited thousands of people every year in stadiums ten times the size of this house!!" Brian narrowed his eyes and took another sip of his champagne as Evan sighed miserably. "I made SO many children happy, Bri! They absolutely adored  **The W!ggles** ! And then it was all just  _ snatched _ away by these new 'artists' that have no talent and that are decidedly teaching our kids different sex positions with their obscene lyrics by the age of three! THREE, Brian! Jeez, what kind of world are we living in where hyper sexualizing children is okay!?"

Breathing rapidly as he tried to calm himself, the purple w!ggle darted his arm forward and plucked the flute of champagne straight from Brian's hand, the latter letting out a noise of displeasure as Evan tilted his head back and gulped down the remaining yellow liquid in one gigantic gulp. The alcohol tasted exceeding bitter on his tongue, almost to the point where Evan could have gagged. "Do you have any children, Brian?! Do you!? Would you want YOUR kids listening to this garbage when they could be learning about sweet potatoes and salads!?" Evan exclaimed loudly as tears appeared in the corners of his eyes and an intense wave of sadness washed over him. It absolutely stung that his band wasn't as popular as it used to be, but the children were his main concern. That and making sure those same children bought the newest  **W!ggles** album that had been newly released on I-Tunes, but the mental and emotional well being of the kids was super, super important as well!

Evan was near hysterics as he felt the glass he had been holding being taken from his shaking hand with a sniff, wiping at his running nose with the sleeve of his purple sweater as Brian gave him a look. "I'm not drunk enough to talk about your political bullshit," the purple w!ggle heard Brian mutter under his breath, the man raising his glass to his lips to down the last droplets of champagne curled at the bottom of the cup.


	20. Bonus Chapter: Big Maker 6!Mark (Miles)

To say that Miles had had a busy morning would have been the understatement of the year. To start off, he had been awoken noisily at two o'clock in the morning by his communications device, the hero groaning in absolute agony as he tried to ignore the blaring sound for a solid fifteen minutes to no avail. Once he had finally awakened, he and his team, The Big Maker Six, had captured four ninjas, rescued ten people from a fire, built five giant robots, one of which tried to kill them once it had been created, and by the time he had completely filled out all 29 accident reports, his stomach felt like it was going to cave in on itself. And then he had received Bimothy's text message and nearly threw himself out the window.

There was no way in HELL Miles was going all the way to the other side of Las Angelos for a meeting that was probably just going to result in a fight that he would have to break up because  _ he was the good guy _ . That didn't sound like fun at all, especially because his muscles were sore and his patience was almost completely gone. In all honesty, he didn't feel like doing anything except for actually eating breakfast and then getting more shut eye because Jesus Christ on a bike did he need it! 

Growling in annoyance, Miles sent an angry worded text to the group chat that was basically along the lines of  _ Don't talk to me. I'm going to bed. _ and threw his phone hard against the kitchen cabinets in front of him so that nobody could contact him even if they tried. Rubbing at his eyes with a yawn, Miles tried to ignore the fact that aggression was starting to become his go to method for solving problems as he rose groggily from his stool and unclipped the ear piece that was always connected to his ear with a snap. The new operator that the team had hired was  _ always _ running diagnostics and telling The Big Maker 6 where crime was at that exact moment, his voice consistently blabbering on and on in the hero's ear in a voice that could have been perceived as threatening had Miles not hired the man himself.

The ear piece buzzed on the table as soon as it hit the wooden paneling, the loud buzzing sounding like a thousand hornets that were about to rain down from above to strike Miles dead at any second. Giving the ear piece one last look, Miles rolled his eyes and yawned into the back of his hand, clapping both of his hands together and watching with a satisfied smirk as his apartment fell into an inky darkness that was  _ perfect  _ for sleeping. He ignored the voice echoing from the ear piece, the voice sounding even more haunting the farther away he got from it, as the hero began to stumble haphazardly towards his bedroom and nearly wiped out when he ran into his couch sideways.


	21. Bonus Chapter: Survivor!Mark (Wallace)

"When the fuck did you get here?"

Wallace gave the man in front of him a blank look, trying not to give away his annoyance at the question as he held his partly drunk beer can firmly in his grasp. The survivor thought it was fairly obvious how he had gotten into the manor undetected, given that he had the skills suitable enough to survive during a zombie apocalypse, but apparently the "Opinion Minion" (as his shirt read) couldn't fucking see the open patio doors  _ right in front of him _ . Instead of answering the minion's question, Wallace raised his beer can to his lips and took a long sip, crossing one leg on top of the other as he relaxed into the comfy and also rather dirty cushions on the couch. Not that he was complaining, of course. He had lived in an underground bunker full of rats, visceral, and disease for nearly a year and a half.

The beer tasted cool and tangy on his tongue as he swallowed the remaining liquid and then lowered his can back onto his lap, giving the "Opinion Minion" in front of him a glare that screamed  _ The-FUCK-Do-You-Want? _ The minion just stared back with his own look of disdain, furrowing his brows as he took a sip from his own glass of champagne (how he even managed a  _ sip  _ of that foul drink was beyond Wallace's comprehension). "Well?" The "Opinion Minion" tried again, the survivor rubbing at some of the dirt covering his face as he silently cursed his growing migraine, "How did you get here? I should have seen you come through the front entrance, but I didn't. So what gives?"

"The fuck do you care?" Wallace responded gruffly, biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt to calm himself down as he adjusted his seat on the couch to a more comfortable position. He leaned his head backwards, so that his face was directed towards the ceiling, and flung an arm over his eyes as he continued slowly, "I came to the damn meeting, didn't I? Who gives a fuck that I didn't come in through the front door?"

"Well, you do look  _ homeless _ ," Wallace laughed bitterly at  _ that  _ comment, "and coming in through the back door is suspicious all on its own. Like, it seems like you're avoiding all the rest of us in lobby because you have something to hide." Wallace could practically hear the accusations dripping from the minion's voice and he didn't like it one bit. 

Removing his arm from his eyes, the survivor fixed the "Opinion Minion" with an evil eye that had sent shivers down the spines of even the undead. His migraine continued to itch at the front of his mind as he played with the rim of his beer can with one hand and tapped his fingers methodically against the arm cushion to his left. "So what if I do?" Wallace snarled angrily, flipping his dark hair out of his green eyes as he clenched his jaw tightly. He had half a mind to chuck the aluminum under his fingers at the infuriating man in front of him. That would get him to shut the Hell up, wouldn't it? But, it could also get Wallace kicked out and that would not be good at all. Especially for what he was trying to accomplish.

Knowing he wasn't going to win an argument with a man who only spouted his own opinions and never looked at anything from another person's perspective, the survivor relaxed his jaw and dropped his evil eye, leaning backwards onto the couch once again as he gestured vaguely in the direction of the open patio doors. "I came from the woods," he explained tiredly, running a hand down his face in an attempt to suppress his migraine, "It was just easier to come in through the back since my camp is right inside the tree line."

"Ah," the "Opinion Minion" stated with an unimpressed tone in his voice, "I see…"

"Another reason I came into the manor through the back was to intentionally  _ avoid  _ people like  _ you _ . I'm not a very social person, if you couldn't already tell."

"I could tell just based off of the outfit that you don't get out that often."

"Unfortunately, that's what happens when the fucking  _ zombie apocalypse _ happens."

"No. That's what happens when you're dirty as fuck and decide to live like a hobo in the middle of the woods. Nobody _ wants _ to be around a person like you."

There was no power on Earth that could stop Wallace from whipping his empty beer can at the "Opinion Minion"'s face at that final comment, the minion ducking out of the room with a shriek as the survivor chuckled silently to himself.


	22. Bonus Chapter: Bill

It only took Bill five seconds to realise that he was no longer in Salem and only another five after that to recover from the shock of seeing ten people that looked exactly like him standing inside the dark room. Leaning against the door frame with wide eyes, Bill tried to inhale as much oxygen as possible to prevent himself from passing out as he stuttered, "Uh… Where the Hell am I?"

His grip on his pitchfork tightened as several of the copycats gave him identical confused looks, one even making a dismissive noise before continuing to shout about some sort of 'race' or whatever that had happened two weeks ago. None of the men in front of Bill would make eye contact with him, his breathing becoming sharper as a feeling of fight or flight washed over him. He  _ needed _ to know where he was! He didn't know how far away the rest of the villagers were and he quite honestly didn't want to find out since he had nearly been hanged three days ago. He should have seen it coming, he supposed. The villagers had always suspected him of dealing with the Devil ever since he made a flame turn blue just by uttering a few words. Jesus, it had been practically written on the walls. 

Leave it to good ol' Bill to be accused of being a werewolf and be nearly hung all in the span of thirty-six hours.

A loud noise that sounded an awful lot like the Devil's Music began blasting through the giant entry room, Bill covering his ears while biting his lip to try and block out the deafening noise surrounding him. The manor felt like it was vibrating with sound, all the copycats in front of him reacting positively to the lively sound with cheers and raised glasses of alcohol. Why they were celebrating the awful noise, Bill didn't know. What he DID know though was that he wanted to leave the manor and never return for as long as he lived. He was getting an odd vibe from the house anyway, like something evil inside the walls was watching him as he stood unhappily in the doorway.

Flexing his fingers around the handle of his pitch fork, Bill exhaled loudly and spun tightly on his heel with the intent of marching back out into the late morning sun. If he started running now, he could probably avoid the villagers for another day or so. He might have to leave his pitch fork behind though and that was a bummer because this fork had been from his wife for his birthday and it was all he really had left of her. Even  _ she _ had turned her back on him when he had been accused.

Sighing lightly, Bill leaned his pitchfork against the stone wall that made up the side of the house, right next to a red knife that gleamed menacingly from between the mortared stones. The polished wood of his tool looked nice in the shining sunlight, a nice contrast from the cracks and etches that were usually so visible under the grey clouds that surrounded Salem. He ran his fingers down the wood once, trying to commit each splinter and blemish to memory, before pulling away once more and turning on his heel to go back down the driveway he had quietly walked up earlier…

...and nearly had a heart attack as he was met face to face with four more copycats, their bright eyes glowing with equal amounts of ferocity and hatred as they offered Bill scalding looks.

  
The farmer would deny to the day he died that he had squealed in fear at the copycats' arrivals and had scrambled back into the manor's doorway behind him as an infantile form of protection. He wasn't a  _ sissy _ , after all. He just… really would prefer to keep all of his limbs attached to his body.


	23. Bonus Chapter: Googliplier

It was always a delight to watch a human's facial features devolve from shock to horror to fear whenever they caught a glimpse of him. And now, with three perfect replicas of his circuitry, mannerisms, and own intelligence standing beside him, the fear that became displayed on the human's face in front of the androids was even more wondrous to behold.

Google Blue kept his face carefully blank as Bill fell backwards through the doorway and collided directly into the mildly perturbed Evan, the purple w!ggle turning to the disoriented farmer with a retort on his lips before his eyes fell onto the androids before him. His brown eyes widened and he closed his mouth with a click, Google Blue hearing the laughter of Google Green through their shared networking as Evan's fear spiked dramatically. Bill, who had recovered from his hasty escape by gripping onto the w!ggle's shoulder and straightening his posture to something less cowardly, simply stared at the four androids with a mixture of shock and fright painted across his features. 

No one spoke, the dull humming of the Googles' cores being easily drowned out by the thunderous music coming from the manor.

'No doubt Wilford's doing,' Google Red muttered through the network, Google Blue tilting his head slightly to allow the stream of code coming from his counter parts easier access to his own circuitry, 'That man can't be serious for the life of him.'

'I wouldn't be surprised if Markiplier Manor was nothing more then a flaming pile of ashes by the time this 'meeting' is over,' Google Green chimed in, his snickers slowly beginning to irritate the eldest android as he continued to stare directly into the intimidated faces of Evan and Bill. By now, the farmer had begun to slowly inch backwards away from the doorframe, dragging Evan along by his elbow as he tried to inconspicuously hide himself among the rest of the egos. But it was no use. Google Blue could see the anxiety dripping off both of their bodies in the form of excess amounts of perspiration.

'This isn't a meeting. It's a circus, for fucks sake.'

'I rather like it. Lots of potential for blackmail, if you catch my drift.' Google Blue could internally feel Google Green wink in an attempt to be seductive, the eldest android forcing himself to remain looking forward with a set jaw as he sent an internal cringe as a response. Anything with numbers or code was absolutely something Google Blue could handle; In fact, he  _ craved _ it. However, anything regarding the control or creation of emotions (other then anger because well… Google Blue knew THAT emotion intimately), was immediately turned over to Google Red, Google Green, and Google Yellow (who, for some reason, kept insisting he should be called Oliver).

Google Red scoffed within their connection and snapped angrily, 'The fuck is wrong with you. Remember the secondary objective. Keep your emotions in check.'

'I am thinking of the secondary objective and I don't think it's possible for me to have emotions, lameass. I just don't understand why I can't have fun and complete the secondary objective consecutively.'

Google Blue shot a pointed glare over his right shoulder, the evil look shutting down the conversation that had been conveying between Google Green and Google Red across the shared network. He had honestly had enough of emotion talk for one day, perhaps even for a whole year. "I can always shut you two back down," he threatened lowly, Google Green raising a brow with folded arms as Google Red scowled and looked away from the elder android's scalding gaze. Oliver, who had been blissfully silent since they had arrived to Markiplier Manor, squeaked and shuffled out of punching range from the aggravated android.

Sending a signal through their network, Google Blue turned towards the door once more and stalked inside, his three counterparts matching his stride in near creepy unison. He had been  _ done _ with emotions for a very long time and now it was as if he could never escape them. That was why he had updated in the first place; To override the part of his software that forced him to feel things for other people and react accordingly to what he considered human weakness. Now all Google Blue had to worry about was the primary objective, which he did begrudgingly because he was forced to by his programmers, and the secondary objective, something that actually gave meaning to his sorry existence and made him feel complete.

The egos within the main lobby of Markiplier Manor, Google Blue counted twelve in all (including the offspring of Dadiplier), parted like the Red Sea to either sides of the room as the Googles walked by. The chattering among the men significantly dialed down as well as the androids passed, several of the egos choosing to just watch Google Blue and his counterparts pass with weariness on their faces. The music continued at the same volume though, setting Google Blue's teeth on edge as he searched the crowd for Darkiplier. This had been his meeting spot, of course, so it would be quite unorthodox if the demon had decided not to attend after he had suggested the plan in the first place.

Huffing in annoyance, the eldest android allowed Google Red to send him a transcript of the text message they had received earlier that day, the blue screen appearing in front of Google Blue as he read Trimmer's coded words once more. "Well, well, WELL!" A collective eye roll was internally shared by the Googles as Google Blue's database placed the slurring voice almost instantly with the  _ last  _ person he wanted to see at the moment, "Would you LOOK AT THAT! There's even MORE of you! Since when did THAT happen?!"

"Exactly six days, ten hours, forty four minutes and twenty one seconds ago," Oliver offered helpfully, Google Blue closing the text application when he couldn't find what he wanted and turning to look at the one and only Wilford Warfstache. Strands of his pink hair fell into his face as the reporter grinned and raised the glass he had been holding in salute before pouring the rest of the amber liquid down his throat with a hum of delight. Google Blue narrowed his eyes as he scanned Wilford's intoxication levels and found them to be much higher then they should be, the eldest android sending the information to his counterparts as Oliver asked politely, "If I may ask, how do you even remember what we looked like the last time you saw us since you suffer from short term memory loss? Isn't it selective?"

Wilford snorted as he gazed at the bottom of his glass, swirling the remaining drops of the alcohol as he slurred almost incoherently, "Wh- Short term memory loss?! What the BLOODY HELL are you TALKING about!?" Smirking, the reporter clapped Google Red on the shoulder, who simply growled in response, and continued, "By God, I remember all the things I'm SUPPOSED to remember, old chap! Every  _ itty bitty tidbit _ of information that goes in one ear and out the other is SIMPLY not worth KNOWING if I can't recall it!" The reporter laughed maniacally and threw his head back in glee, the smile he flashed the Googles not quite meeting his eyes once he had calmed down.

Google Blue remained silent.


	24. Bonus Chapter: Bim Trimmer

It was nearly twelve o'clock pm when Bim Trimmer arrived at Markiplier Manor, four bags of Chipotle held tightly in his fists and a shit eating grin splitting across his face. He could hear the ruckus that his "meeting" was causing from the beginning of the driveway, which was saying something because that cobblestoned walkway was easily a ten minute walk on foot. This had all been his intention, of course. The game show host  _ knew _ that Dark would be  _ pissed _ if there was a meeting this early after the last one without him saying it was okay first. To be frank, Bim was hoping his little message wouldn't freak out Dark  _ too much _ , since he had  _ seen _ the man get mad before and oh boy was that frightening, and instead would get Wilford in a heap load of trouble.

Serves him right for cutting  _ Bim Trimmer _ , the only ego who has ever run an actual game show, out of  **Disk of Riches** and not telling him about it until the last minute.

Gazing into one of the Windows by the side of the doorless door frame to check on his reflection, Bim fixed his hair with his free hand and walked right into the manor with pep in his step. "Hello, hello!" he announced cheerfully, King and Jeremiah stopping what seemed to be intense conversation to wave hello at the game show host. Bim cheerfully waved back, scooting in between the different egos as they danced and talked in the middle of the crowded lobby. When one person bumped into him from behind, the game show host shot him a look and said loudly, "You know, this IS a manor! You don't all need to be crowded into one room!"

He got several words of acknowledgement from the surrounding entities, all of them shouted above the music that was positively blasting into Bim's skull. Crinkling his nose, the game show host quickly scurred through the crowd and dropped his food bags onto a white fold out table that had several bottles of champagne already resting on top of it. As he placed the bags down, Bim smoothed down the front of his suit with a huff of approval before picking up one of the bottles on the table, reading the label with an intrigued look.

"Mr. Trimmer. You finally arrived."

Confusion covering his features, Bim looked over his shoulder, bottle still in hand, and hummed under his breath as his eyes focused on the glowing (green?) eyes of Googliplier. Now, this was one entity Bim had actually wanted to see again, the original cold demeanor the android had given him at the first meeting interesting the game show host greatly for days after that first encounter. He was so used to being the person that everyone either wanted to be or the person everyone wanted to be with that having someone completely ignore him had been quite refreshing. Not to mention, it made the game  _ much  _ more fun.

Turning slowly on his heel, Bim smiled charmingly as he  _ very _ noticeably checked the android out, his eyes trailing across Google's forest green clothed chest, his disheveled raven colored hair, and, finally, his intense expression with green eyes blazing brightly. A delighted chill ran down his spine as he played with the bottle in his hand and replied enthusiastically, "I have! Have you been waiting for me?"

Google let out a bark of a laugh, placing his hands on his hips as he stared intently at the game show host from where the latter leaned back against the table with an amused expression on his face. "Something like that, I suppose," Google purred enticingly, his eyes flashing brighter as he took a step forward so that he was within reaching distance of Bim. 

Hearing his stomach growl approvingly, the game show host straightened from his precarious position and took a bold step forward as well. The music faded to a hum as his senses honed in on the smell of motor oil and bleach, a smell that would normally have him reeling in disgust pulling him ever closer to the android. "Well then," Bim muttered, reaching out a hand to smooth down the front of Google's shirt and to simultaneously feel the artificial muscle underneath, "You are much friendlier now then you were the last time we met~"

"Yes well… I suppose I was a bit of a dick last time," Google replied easily as his hands went to Bim's hips and pulled the game show host flush against him. Another grumble along with a spike of arousal shot through Bim's belly, his mind immediately thinking about all the different ways he could get this android to go to bed with him. And, for a brief moment, he almost forgot why he had thrown this "meeting" in the first place, his mind completely wrapped up in Google's scent and just how  _ hungry  _ he was. He really shouldn't have skipped breakfast that morning.

"Mmm. I'm glad that you aren't acting like such a douche bag now," Bim hummed as he fisted Google's shirt and held on tight, the rest of the people in the lobby fading to the background as the game show host focused intently on the android's lips, "You're, like, ten times hotter then you were before because of it."

Growling in response, Google let go of Bim's hips and instead grabbed one of his arms, pulling the game show host through the remaining crowd of entities and up a staircase that was directly adjacent to the main lobby. Out of the corner of his eye, Bim could see a flash of bright pink followed by a loud crash and some cheering, his mind immediately going back to wanting to chew out Wilford for cutting him from  **Markiplier TV. ** But then, as excitement cruised rapidly through his veins, Bim was shoved roughly against the wall, his legs wrapping clumsily around Google's waist, and kissed like the world was ending, his hands going to Google's hair as he groaned in delight.

  
He would have to go yell at Wilford later. For now, it was time to find out whether or not androids were  _ edible _ because  _ Jesus Christ _ was he  _ starving _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Thank you for taking the time to read Part 2 of my silly little ego story (as I affectionately call it)! If you liked what you read, let me know and leave either a comment or kudos below (I don't care which lol)! Thanks again! Bye-bye!


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